


Beneath the Mourning Door

by RedSkittleQueen



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Heavy OC cast, Human saving Wraith, Wraith and human interactions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:45:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7456783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSkittleQueen/pseuds/RedSkittleQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young woman is unprepared for the impact of saving a dying Wraith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except my OCs. Just rekindling an old love of a favorite fandom.

 

 **A.N:** This story is about a young woman who lives with the choices she makes. Not Atlantis-centric.

 

 **A.N#2:** Written to Yoko Kanno's _Zankyou no Terror,_ “walt,” “lev low,” and “birden.” Other notable songs were Lubomyr Melnk's “Parasol (excerpt),” Greg Haines' “The Spin,” Nils Fram's “Says,” and Ramin Djawadi's _Game of Thrones Season Six OST._

 

.

 

“Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.”  
―Sylvia Plath, _The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath_

 

_._

 

.

 

Beneath the Mourning Door

 

.

 

PART I

 

.

 

In the end it was the boy who told her about the trapped Wraith.

Siha was tempted not to believe him, but Kay's face was too pale, and he'd never lied to her before. She stood up after a moment and donned her long hunting knife and her grandda's rapid-pistol. It was just after dawn. No one marked their passing from the camp, or if they did, they made no mention. If the lowest-ranked members wanted to risk their necks and leave the safety of the group, who were they to stop them?

Kay moved like a shadow through the forest, hardly disturbing a leaf. Siha felt like a cow besides him. Her grandda had taught her much about woodcraft, but Kay was in a class of his own. He spent more time in the forest than any of camp, and he threaded through the trees as if part of the wilderness itself. It was no surprise he'd find the Wraith out of all of them, even before the patrols.

The scenery grew wilder the farther they left the camp's boundaries. Twice Siha glanced Kay's way. When they reached the invisible line of no-man's land, she stopped him with a hiss.

“You sure?” she asked.

Kay only responded in woodspeak, that curious combination of facial expression and hand signal. _Trust me. I'm sure._

Siha was tempted to turn back. It was death to be caught in no-man's land. But the pinched, almost feverish combination of excitement and fear never left his face, and a similar heady anticipation began to warm her belly. Like every other human in the galaxy she grew up hearing tales of the Wraith. The forest she lived in was dense and secluded. Something in the woods made electronics malfunction, corrupting navigation systems and communications alike. Few Wraith bothered them. Up until a year ago, she'd thought she'd live out her life with only stories about the people-eaters.

Then newcomers from another galaxy woke the Wraith.

While competition had always been fierce between the camps, the Wraiths' premature awakening triggered an almost feverish struggle for prime forest locations. Everyone wanted to hide as Wraith hunted and culled with a previously-unseen ravenous abandon.

Siha didn't turn back. She wanted to see the Wraith.

They entered no-man's land in furtive silence. The boy quickened to a low, crouching run, following a trail only he could see, moving as one possessed. Siha struggled to both keep up and maintain stealth, trying to shake off the horrible sense of being watched. The little breakfast she'd eaten was already forgotten. By the time Kay held up a hand to stop Siha was glancing over her shoulder every few beats, hand on her rapid-pistol's handle. Kay had them huddling by an old, gnarled tree. Though she trusted the boy's wood sense, it still felt too open. _We should go back,_ she thought.

Then she heard it.

No, felt _._ It was almost a vibration in her fingertips. At first she thought it came from one of forest's native cats and curled her hand tighter around her rapid-pistol. Then the noise changed. It became heavy soughs of air, as if someone was struggling against bonds but were exhausted beyond all measure. It lasted only a moment before dropping back into the inaudible tremor.

Siha wet dried lips and stared hard at the boy. For the first time since he crouched by her campfire and whispered the words _I found a Wraith_ , he returned her regard with a steady one of his own. He lifted an index finger and ran it down the bridge of his nose. _Close. Be careful._

Burning curiosity overwhelmed good sense. The young woman rose from her crouch and walked around the large tree blocking her view, heart pounding. Gooseflesh erupted across the young woman's arms.

A Wraith lay bound on its side in the crotch of a large tree, stricken and hunched. Its eyes were closed. A wire was wrapped around its throat similar to the snaring technique she used on small mammals and birds. The Wraith had managed to stick three fingers of its right hand under the wire, keeping itself from being throttled completely. The other arm lay in an unnatural angle by its side, broken.

Whoever set the snare implemented a twofold design: a type of claw-tooth trap, the same one her camp used to anchor large prey to the ground, clenched around the back of one of its thighs. The moment she saw the claw-tooth, she realized who had set the trap. Not two weeks ago her camp played the dubious host to a Runner, and though she'd seen little of the hulking, dreadlocked man, she'd heard stories of how he could settle a chill on someone's heart with a single look. Devastatingly handsome and haunted in equal measure, he was gone that afternoon, much to the relief and wonder of the camp. However, before he left, he traded one of his blades wrapped in Wraith hair for a claw-tooth trap. Siha's camp leader, Fhuhu, had instantly agreed to the trade. He, like many others, believed there was powerful magic in possessing Wraith parts. Siha agreed, but had the radical idea it went beyond the physical sense.

It was unheard of to see lone Wraith this deep in the forest. Normally they culled the unprotected nomad camps too small or weak to enter the woods. _It'd must've been hunting the Runner,_ she thought. She stepped closer to the bleeding creature. With the wire around its neck and claw-tooth at its leg, every attempt it made to lessen the hold of the one tightened the other. _Caught between two hells,_ she thought without pity, marveling at the simple cruelty of the scene with professional appreciation. Instead of killing his pursuer, the Runner had arranged the Wraith so it was stretched between the two traps, given enough slack to strangle itself. The Runner had been singularly cruel, though no crueler than the Wraith for destroying the man's life.

The Wraith lay as if already dead, the rise and fall of its chest almost unnoticeable. It was dressed in a dark leather uniform, its coat bunched around its legs. Despite the leather being shiny with blood and matted with dirt, it was the richest she'd ever seen. It reduced her leader's clothing to gaudy rags. The shock-white hair hung about its face in disarray, much longer than her own. _Like spider silk,_ she thought for no reason. At first she thought it was female because of this, but then noticed two elegant mustachios descending from its chin.

She took another step closer. A twig broke.

Vulpine eyes snapped open. Siha fought the urge to stumble back from the withering hate in them. The Wraith's rage was like a physical heat. If it weren't for the wire and claw-tooth, she knew the Wraith would've leapt up and torn her throat. Or worse, steal her life force.

“Release me,” it said.

The Wraith's voice was a surprise. Though labored and edged with pain, it was oddly multilayered. A terrible hunger filled its undercurrent.

“Kay,” she said.

The boy appeared besides her. His breathing was shallow and unsteady.

 _Does anybody else know about this?_ she gestured.

He shook his head. His throat worked. _No. Only you,_ he signed back.

Both Siha and Kay jumped when a snarl burst from the Wraith. The snarls soon dissolved into winces and heavy swallowing. _I'm so close I can smell its blood,_ she thought, almost giddy with exhilaration and fear. It made the young woman wonder why would Kay be here in the forbidden land between the two camps in first place. She knew the food shortages in the camp had been getting worse. Less food in her diminishing camp's range meant more excursions in enemy territory, and unless they wanted to forsake the safety of the forest and brave the wide expanses of Wraith cull zones, Siha's camp had to find a way to fight back. Siha knew in her heart the rival camp had a purpose to serve, and as she stared at the bound Wraith, an idea began to take shape.

Kay suddenly mimicked a bird's whistle. _Hide!_

Siha dove after Kay into the thick undergrowth. They had enough time to hide under a camouflage blanket from Kay's pack before hearing the rustle of approaching footsteps.

There were three of them: two boys, one girl. They moved with purpose, honing on the Wraith's location with unerring precision. This was no patrol party. They slashed errant ferns and bushes with short cudgels, smiling at each other. The Wraith stared straight ahead, breathing slow and labored. It erupted into terrible snarls when the girl began to whistle.

Siha cursed under her breath. _How could I've been so blind,_ she thought. She should've noticed the distinct ring of trampled vegetation and footprints around the Wraith.

Grins spread across the trio's faces. The girl's whistling became cheerful as the snarls simmered to growls. The look the Wraith gave its tormentors could've stripped flesh off bone, but the girl only laughed, her voice beautiful. Without missing a beat she whirled her cudgel and brought it down on the Wraith's twitching, outstretched arm. The Wraith didn't scream as Siha expected, but blinked hard, grunting agonized _hnnnnnnn_ 's with every breath. It quivered and jerked, its free foot digging a furrow in the soil. The cudgels fell upon its legs, ribs, and hip. Only after audible cracks of breaking bones did the girl wave the others to stop.

When the Wraith's staggered breathing developed a wet rattle, pity didn't stir in Siha's chest. The race of Wraith sowed too much heartbreak and death for that. But it wasn't the Wraith who stole more and more of her camp's lands. And it certainly wasn't the Wraith who tortured her grandda and left his head as a gruesome warning to her camp. As Siha watched the three stand over the bound Wraith in a loose half-circle, it wasn't pity she felt, but frustration. She couldn't let these three ruin the fledging plan growing in her heart.

_That Wraith could change everything._

There was no thinking. Siha shoved the blanket away, aimed, and shot the boy farthest left between the shoulders with her rapid-pistol. The recoil stung her hand. The boy fell like a poleaxed boar, stunned. The other two whirled around. The second boy reacted swiftest, pulling out his own version of Siha's hunting knife and throwing it at her. The throw was off-centre. It grazed her upper arm and left a burning gash, but Siha hardly felt it. Kay threw his own knife. His aim was truer and landed in the hard meat of the boy's upper thigh. She watched the boy fall with a grunt, clutching at his bleeding leg. She raised her rapid-pistol again, but the girl was already gone, tree branches swaying in her wake. Siha cursed. She didn't know why she didn't shoot the girl first; it'd been obvious she'd been the ringleader.

“Kay, stop him from screaming but don't kill him.” She touched the spot where the knife had cut her arm, and when she drew her hand back, blood covered her fingertips.

There was little time before reinforcements from the other side came, and there was one chance to try her crazy idea. A part of her wished she had more time to step back and calculate, but a greater part whispered this was what she'd been waiting for since witnessing her grandda's grinning, decapitated head. As she stood in the centre of the bloodstained patch of no-man's land, she could feel the wind change. Her arm was of no consequence. Kay and the incapacitated boys from the rival camp faded in the unimportant background.

All what mattered was the Wraith and its answer to her question.

Once it was clear Kay would maintain lookout, Siha picked her way to the Wraith and crouched before its head. It was conscious enough to look at her. Runnels of black blood oozed down its neck. She could even see its exposed finger bones where the wire cut deep.

“If I free you,” she said slowly, “would you kill me?”

“I am . . . dying,” it said, more rasp than words. Its pupils were blown wide. “I must . . . feed.”

“If I can provide you food, right now, would you still try to kill me?”

“Release and . . . feed me. Give . . . word . . . not touch you.”

“What good is the word of a Wraith?” Siha asked, but she could see the creature was slipping. A glaze of agony clouded its face. The young woman gnawed on the inside of her cheek, caution warring again urgency.

“Your word?” she asked again.

The Wraith only hissed, blood bubbling between its translucent teeth. It made no other sign, its eyes fluttering shut.

It was now or never.

Siha made her choice. Her knife would prove useless for such a delicate job. She reached inside her pouch that held most of her woodcraft supplies and withdrew a simple pair of plier cutters. They were her grandda's.

“What are you doing?” Kay asked, but she ignored him.

It was too tight to find purchase around the neck. There was the barest space between the third finger and the throat, enough for the plier's jaws to get through. Whatever the Runner used was strong, but Siha's pliers were still sharp. As she touched the Wraith's jaw to stabilize herself, its skin came as a surprise. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it was so much like a human's she almost recoiled. Cooler, maybe. And smooth, hairless. But not slimy or scaly as she'd imagined the creature's skin would feel like. She was close enough to smell the unpleasant tang of its blood. Beneath it was an odd, dry scent. _Cobwebs,_ she thought for no reason. The Wraith's eyes remained closed, for which Siha was grateful.

After several efforts, the wire finally gave with a loud _snip_.

At first the Wraith didn't react, and a nauseating thrill raced up her spine. Was she too late?

Then it coughed, fingers twitching.

Siha finished pulling the wire away then retreated, controlling her urge to run. She went to where Kay was staring at the Wraith. He was so pale his freckles stood out against his cheeks. She pointed to the bleeding boy he'd knocked out.

“Help me carry him,” she said.

The boy gave an aborted shake of his head, lips pressed in a white line. Siha strode close and clutched his upper arm. She leaned in and hissed, “Help me.”

Kay stared at her as if she were a stranger. Siha softened both her tone and grip. “For me. Please.”

Siha could feel him wilt beneath her fingers. He nodded once, but wouldn't meet her gaze. She let him go. The enemy boy moaned as they moved him. Siha didn't notice the dead weight or the pain in her arm. The boy in her arms was not longer a boy, but a key to a lock. When they reached the Wraith's side Kay instantly let go and backed away. Siha remained, crouching down.

At first she worried the Wraith had died in the time it'd taken to relocate the bleeding boy, but the inhuman eyes reopened, and her fear receded. A curious coldness stole over her as she watched the Wraith become aware of the unconscious human in degrees. Siha found she couldn't look away. With painful slowness the Wraith placed its feeding hand on the boy's chest. The boy jolted awake as if electrocuted. Siha slapped a hand over his mouth before his screams could alert both camps, his breath tickling her palm. She could actually hear his life be sucked out. _Like someone slurping soup,_ she thought with hysteria. Her gorge rose as the body turned to freeze-dried leather beneath her fingertips, and she fought the urge to vomit. She swallowed hard.

When the boy was dead the Wraith released an explosive sigh and slumped, hand still on the desiccated chest. The young woman made sure she was out of its reach, wiping her hand on the seat of her pants.

After a moment the Wraith said, “The other. Bring him to me.”

“What?”

“One is not enough to repair the damage,” it said. “I need to feed again, and soon.”

But already its voice was stronger, the wet rattle gone. The gaping wound at its throat no longer bled. Siha rocked back on her heels in an attempt to buy time to think, looking around. She guessed it would be awhile before the girl returned, if at all. It was clear the three hadn't told their camp about the downed Wraith. _She'd have to explain to her crazy leader why she was in forbidden no-man's land to begin with,_ she thought. She smiled to herself, feeling no humor. Despite her complaints towards her own leader, Ehraha was notorious for being as hard-handed with his people as he was with his enemies. She studied the Wraith. Despite it no longer hovered death's door, the wound at its neck hadn't disappeared. Its legs were still broken. For her plan to work, she needed it alive and functional. _Relax,_ she thought. _You're still in control._

She avoided looking at the dead boy when she said to the Wraith, “If I save you, will you attack my friend and me?”

“Give me the other human and I won't need to.”

Siha stared hard at it and molded her tone into iron. “If you attack or make any move to attack, we'll kill you.”

The Wraith said nothing, its expression tight and closed. When she turned to Kay, he gesticulated with short, terse motions. _What are you doing?_

 _I've a plan. Just help me move the other one,_ she signed.

A muscle worked in his cheek as he looked away. But like the first boy, he helped move the one still stunned by Siha's rapid-pistol. The Wraith fed on him as well. When it was done it made the same sated sigh, almost shuddering. With slow movements it made a fist with its previously broken hand. It flexed its fingers. Siha backed to a safer distance while it was still testing its appendages.

“We need to get the other trap from your leg,” she said. Unlike the wire, the claw-tooth would be much harder to remove. Not only that, both the Wraith's hands were free. It could easily grab her while she was—

The Wraith sat up and twisted its torso to access the trap. Metal snapped as it broke the locking mechanism and pulled the jaws away from its leg like a gristly magician’s trick. It wrenched the anchoring peg up and tossed the whole mangled contraption away with a snarl, all while still sitting down. Siha watched as she crouched, marveling. She knew the stories spoke of their monstrous strength, but it was another thing entirely to see in person. The Wraith's build was far leaner than what what she'd normally equate to physical power. It was a good lesson. _I mustn't forget its capabilities,_ she thought. _I mustn't lose control._

The Wraith leaned against the moss-covered trunk of the tree, catching its breath.With its face no longer pressed in the dirt, she now saw its features were narrow and masculine, the greenish skin stretched tight over sharp cheekbones. The wire wound on its neck was fully closed, though the flesh was a spidery mess of bruises. A dark tattoo swirled around its left eye and brow. She dared not call the Wraith handsome _,_ not even in the safety of her own mind, but there was something alluring about it. This struck Siha as unnatural. Monsters were supposed to be monstrous, not quasi-attractive. She then noticed it watching her, measuring. Her skin crawled with an unidentifiable emotion. The Wraith cocked its head and the perverse image of a bird searching for worms came to her.

When the silence stretched uncomfortably long—even the birds were quiet—she got up from her crouch and went to Kay's side, her legs numb and tingling.

 _We need to hide it. Do you know a place nearby?_ she gestured.

Kay was shorter than her by a foot, but he still managed to stare at her in a way that made her feel small. The boy was no coward, but she saw he was near his limit. One wrong move and he would fly away like a wild bird.

“Kay. _Please._ ”

He must've heard something in her voice. Kay didn't run. But neither did he acquiesce.

 _What are you doing_ , he signaled. _We need to get out of here._

“But whoever comes will kill it,” she said aloud. “I want—” _It alive._ That's what she was going to say.

“Isn't that the point?” Kay said, running a hair through his blonde hair. He didn't seem to notice her aborted sentence.

“Will you do this last thing for me? Then we leave. I promise. I won't involve you anymore.”

“Involve me in what? Siha, you're not making any sense.”

“Will you do it?” she pressed, crowding his space. They were close enough to kiss. Kay shifted on his heels, throat working.

“This is dangerous,” he said. She could smell the apple he'd eaten for breakfast. “It just killed two people. It could do the same to us.”

“I won't let that happen.” She shook his shoulder, but kept her grip gentle. Comforting. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it would pound out of her chest. “Just show me where to hide it. That's it. Then we go back.”

Kay pressed his lips together into thin lines. He looked away first, jaw working. When he gave one terse nod, she allowed herself to squeeze his shoulder for a second. She took a breath, steeled herself, then returned to where the Wraith was still leaning against the tree. It tracked her approach as an owl watched a mouse.

Siha crouched down so they were about eye-level. She kept one hand within her vest, finger on her rapid-pistol's trigger.

“What's your name?” she asked.

The Wraith's eyes narrowed. It didn't respond.

“More humans will come,” she tried again. “You need a place to hide. We . . . I can help you.”

It continued to stare at her.

Siha wet her lips. “I bet you want revenge on the humans who did this to you. I can help you with that too.”

“Help me?” Its multilayered voice was the smoothest yet, carrying a dangerous note she hadn't noticed before. It wrinkled its nose in a sneer. “How can you help me?”

“I know the forest,” she said, heart pounding. Cold sweat ran down the valley of her spine. “I can lead patrols to you. No other Wraith have eaten the humans here in living memory. The forest is too dense, too protected. You could become a legend.”

At first Siha thought she'd gone too far with her last comment, and cursed herself as the Wraith suddenly turned shrewd and quiet.

“I don't care for your legends,” it said at last. “All I want is to feed on that female.”

“Then let me help you,” Siha said.

“Why.” It narrowed its eyes further. “Why would a human go against its own kind.”

“Those who hurt you hurt me as well. As far as I'm concerned, they're not my own kind.”

When it didn't respond again, she added, “I want those humans gone too. You need to eat. If we help each other, we can both have the same thing.”

It tilted its head again in a decidedly predatory way. “Ohhhhh?” it said, drawing out the word. Siha tried not to flush. “And if I disagree?”

“Then I kill you.”

It snorted. “Really.”

She leveled her rapid-pistol at it, still out of reach. “You sure about that?”

“It would take many hits to slow me down,” it said, bared teeth gleaming. “By then I would reach you.”

“If you were at full strength I'd believe you,” the young woman said, keeping her voice steady. “But I bet you're still hurt, more hurt than you're willing to let on. If I leave you now, the same humans who did this to you will find you, and this time they'll kill you. Or maybe they'll tie you up and let you starve to death.”

At the word _starve_ the Wraith's entire body tensed, hands twitching into fists. Its mocking demeanor vanished as it focused on her as if she was the last human in existence. The hairs on her neck rose. She struggled to keep her expression level.

“Very well,” it said, slowly, turning each word over in its mouth. “I will accept your offer.”

“Alright,” she said. Inside, she was flying.

Kay led them deeper into no-man's land. The Wraith walked with a heavy, pronounced limp, moving slower than most elderly of the camp. It must've been nearly dead if killing two boys wasn't enough to heal all its injuries. Siha danced in the privacy of her mind, thanking all the Ancestors her bluff had been correct.

Siha had never been in the forbidden region before, but it was obvious Kay had. He led them to a medium-sized river as if he'd made the trip a thousand times before, stopping on the rocky beach. There were no trees, granting Siha a rare view of the sky. The morning had turned low and gray without her noticing and she pulled her jacket in tighter, hunching her shoulders both at the chill and at the openness. She couldn't imagine living on a world without the thick, protective blanket of the forest. She knew other outside camps wanted access to the haven, but her people stopped every attempt. Rarely was a foreigner allowed to remain: there simply wasn't enough space to share the sanctuary.

 _And now the forest becomes stripped bare,_ Siha thought. _We must eat._

Kay pointed out a shallow indent of a cave. It was easy to miss. The young woman surveyed the surroundings with a conspirator's eye, nodding: the rocks would hide any footprints, the water would cover any scent, and the cave was deep enough to hide at least two adults. Unless there were others who braved the penalty of death, the Wraith would be hidden from either camp. _Or if the camp leaders met for discussion,_ she thought. She smiled. Fhuhu and Ehraha hated each other.

The Wraith stumbled over the rocks with agonizing slowness, hissing. Though Siha kept a healthy distance away, she could hear its labored breathing.

She pointed to the cave. “You'll stay here.”

Its upper lip twitched as it studied the hole, but otherwise made no comment. Before hobbling inside it pinned her with a look. “I must feed within four days,” it said.

Siha didn't like its foreboding tone, but nodded. _Four days. I have four days to capture another of my enemies,_ she thought. Instead of feeling a crushing weight, she felt alive with purpose. The haze she'd been living in since her grandda's death was dissipating.

_Four days._

Siha and Kay left the Wraith by the river. The moment they left the rocks she saw how clumsy the creature had been; a blind worm could follow its trail. She sighed. But instead of leaving as she'd expect him to, Kay stayed to help her hide the traces. They work in tense silence, discomfort radiating off him. They moved cautiously when they reached where the Wraith had been, but there was no sign of enemy patrols. Siha hoped the girl had kept her mouth shut. They carried nothing to bury the bodies, so they covered them up beneath mounds of dead needles and ferns. They finished their gristly duty in silence.

“Whatever you're planning, I want no part of it,” Kay said, his first words since she asked him to hide the Wraith. He still wouldn't make eye contact with her.

“That's fine.” Her mind were miles away, thinking of the next step. Four days. How would she do it?

“Any sane person should've killed the Wraith if they had the chance.”

“Guess I'm not sane,” Siha quipped, but at his contemplative silence, she saw he thought her serious. Fear rushed through her. “Will you tell anyone about this?”

“I should,” he said, his tone accusatory.

She waited, guts churning, trying to school her face into calmness. “Why did you tell only me, then? Why didn't you go to Fhuhu?”

“And tell him I was in no-man's land? No thanks,” he said dryly. He fiddled with a twig. “I thought you'd know what to do.”

“You think what I did was wrong?”

“It's a _Wraith_ ,” he said, turning to face her for the first time. “You saw what it did, what it can do. Why are you saving it?”

“I have an idea.”

“Idea? What idea could possibly be good enough to involve a Wraith?”

Siha wiped her mouth. “Kay, how long do you think our camp is going to last the way it is? Honestly. Because I think Ehraha's people are coming soon, and when they do, we're going to be pushed out of the forest and left as Wraith fodder. Do you want that?”

When Kay didn't answer, she said, “I think that Wraith is the key to stopping Ehraha and saving our camp.”

The boy didn't look at her again for the rest of the trek back to the camp, but Siha didn't notice. Her mind was by the river, and the creature which hid there.

 

 

….

 

_TBC_

 

 


	2. II

.

 

“Out of the ash  
I rise with my red hair  
and I eat men like air.”  
―Sylvia Plath, “Lady Lazarus,” _Ariel: The Restored Edition_

 

.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

Siha noticed Kay was avoiding her.

A day had passed and Kay didn't stop by her fire like he always did or share a meal. His absence was a dull knife to the young woman's side. The plan involving the Wraith would go better with Kay's help, but she knew better than to push him beyond his limits. On the morning of the second day she went to his fire on the outskirts of camp. His hearth was cold. She placed some smoked trout for him and went away. When she returned later that afternoon, she saw her peace-offering had gone untouched. She stared at the trout.

“It's extra patrol for wasting food,” a voice behind her said, tone bland.

“It's for Kay,” she said, not turning to address the speaker.

The man stepped in her line of sight, forcing her to acknowledge him. It was Fhuhu. Like Kay he had blonde hair, but while the boy's was soft and clean, Fhuhu's hair reminded her of a bird's oily feathers. It was filled with miscellaneous beads and trinkets. He even bragged he had a Wraith finger bone in among them. _Only a mink femur,_ Kay had once whispered.

Fhuhu made a show of looking around. “Is Kay here?”

She said nothing.

Her leader picked up the smoked trout and ate it, ambling away. Siha watched him go with a coal in her belly.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

Siha stared at nothing by her fire, chewing the root in her mouth to a tasteless pulp. It was the morning of the third day, and she didn't see the sun dappling through the trees or hear the chirping birds. Despite the early hour she'd taken off her vest and shirt and only wore her breast band and pants, sweating in the humidity. She was so deep in thought she didn't hear Kay's approach.

“You're thinking about what that—what _it_ said, aren't you,” he said. He kept his tone low.

“Do you blame me?” she said, half a mind on the conversation and the rest still mulling over her problem. She only had a day left. Then she peered up at him. So he was aware of the deadline, too _._ “I'm not asking for help—”

“Good. I'm not offering it.”

“—but I was wondering if you could offer an outside perspective,” she finished, as if the boy hadn't interrupted.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The fact I even have to explain—” He went quiet. Siha glanced over her shoulder and saw someone walking by. By the time she turned back, Kay was already gone.

She sighed. Damn. With a distracted mind and a twinging heart she dragged herself to mid-morning muster. Fhuhu was assigning the patrols. She saw the usual crowd of low-ranks with a smattering of mid-ranked hunters. _There's sixty here, ten less than a season ago,_ she thought. She spotted Kay's blonde hair. Though she was sure he was aware of her presence he stared straight ahead at Fhuhu. She waited until her name was called.

“Siha! You're on patrol with Kay and Luuka.”

“Sir, could we add one more?” she asked. People glanced at her. “Ehraha has four people patrol at all times.”

“I don't have one more to spare. You'll just have to be careful," he said.

“Sir—”

“Arguing with your leader?” Fhuhu asked, smile fixed.

Siha swallowed. “No. Sir.”

“Didn't think so. Alright, then . . .” Fhuhu went on about a new rabbit warren sighting by the eastern river and ordered them to set up snares. Siha drowned him out. _The eastern river. If I follow it northbound I'll reach the Wraith's cave. One more day. I have one more day._

The trio moved out. The young woman pretended to check her rapid-pistol's charge to avoid eye contact with Kay. Kay drifted on ahead, hardly disturbing a fern. When they were well beyond the sentries' gazes Luuka nudged her.

“Something happen between you two? You haven't looked at each other once,” he remarked.

“No, it's fine—” Siha began.

“It's nothing—” Kay started.

They both looked at each other and away. Luuka snorted. “Uh-huh. Well, sort it out, whatever it is. We can't have you two fighting, not when you're both our best.” He ruffled her hair.

Siha liked Luuka. One of the mid-ranks, he was strong enough to lift Kay up with one arm and toss him up a tree. His wife Ehyea was sweet and he had two daughters. But sometimes he saw more than she wanted, and she shifted under his curiosity.

“It's nothing,” she said again, mimicking Kay.

Luuka shook his head, then switched topics. They were still close enough to camp to talk without the need to whisper or woodspeak. “You don't normally go after Fhuhu this early in the morning.”

“I felt something needed to be said,” she replied, climbing over a moss-covered log. How Kay did it so gracefully was a mystery to her. “Do you agree? Or am I going crazy?”

“No . . . no, you aren't going crazy,” the man said. He crossed the log. “But I think there are better ways of getting Fhuhu to listen than direct confrontations.”

Siha was glad when they finally reached the eastern river and no longer spoke aloud. They kept low to the ferns and kept an eye on the treeline. Luuka made a sign. _Rabbits_?

Siha shook her head and glanced at Kay. He also shook his head. She scanned the surrounding vegetation for signs of a warren or game trails, but found the forest empty. _Picked clean,_ she thought.

Kay whistled his birdcall. Siha and Luuka ducked into the ferns. When she peeked her eyes through the fronds, she held her breath.

 _Five? They've never traveled five at a time before,_ she thought as she watched an armed patrol appear. Patrol? No, more like miniature war-party. They carried cudgels and their leader sported a rapid-pistol similar to hers. Suddenly it became clear what that girl had decided to tell Ehraha: she blamed the boys' death on Fhuhu's camp.

Which was true. Technically.

Siha held a hand over her mouth to hide her breathing as the patrol moved closer. Thanks to Kay's uncanny instincts they'd hidden in time. _Now's my chance,_ she thought. Her vision narrowed and sharpened.

Siha shot the leader right in the chest with her rapid-pistol and managed to clip another one on the shoulder before they scattered for cover. The two un-stunned ones split and ran at her position in a flanking maneuver, but didn't count for Luuka's position at her nine o'clock. Luuka sprang from his cover and began a grappling match with one. The other joined the fray. The one she'd clipped raised a horn to his lips, but before he could blow a single note Kay threw his hunting knife into his cheek. He was dead in seconds.

“Help Luuka!” she said to Kay as she dashed to where the leader of the war-party had fallen. On closer inspection the man turned out to be a teenager, his beard only starting to grow in. She crouched by his side and put a hand on his chest. Still breathing. Good: she'd worried her pistol had been over-charged. She looked over her shoulder and found Luuka still wrestling with the two men. Grunting, she grabbed the front of the teenager's jacket and dragged him to a edge of a dry, shallow creek. She pushed him down the bank. He landed in a tangle of limbs. She hopped down and stuck a bit of fabric in his mouth in case he made a sound, praying to the gods this would work. She rushed back in time to see Luuka kick the last man in the mouth. The man didn't rise again.

The three of them crouched while they caught their breath, Luuka panting worse than either of them. His right eye was already bruised and swelling. A cut bled on his cheek. _This is starting to escalate,_ Siha thought. _Even if the girl didn't tell them about the Wraith, there's no doubt they're angry about those boys._ Siha thought about the possibilities. If that was the case, she'd have less time than she'd thought to thin her enemy's ranks. Or perhaps any overt action now may ruin her chance at avenging her grandda and protecting her people. _Using a Wraith to fight against humans_ , she thought, face twitching. She didn't laugh.

Luuka's voice shook her from her thoughts. “Why did you shoot? They could've gone on without noticing us.”

“Or they could've noticed us hiding and we would've lost the element of surprise,” Siha said. “I saw an opening and took it.”

Luuka swore softly under his breath, but didn't say anything else, wiping at the blood on his cheek. “I think I may've killed one,” he said. “Dammit, I did. Broke his neck by accident. Damn.” He prodded the one he'd kicked in the mouth. “This one's still alive, though. How about you guys?”

“Kay killed one before he could signal others,” Siha said. “The one I shot got away.”

“Got away?” Luuka frowned. “But I saw you hit him in the chest. Wasn't it perfectly charged?”

“I think it misfired. It didn't stun him for long,” she said, her heart pounding.

Luuka _mm_ 'd, still frowning. He glanced at the weapon holstered on her thigh. He was quiet for a long moment before he said, “I don't need to tell you there aren't many of those left. I know your grandda gave it to you, and Fhuhu respects that, but if he hears you're not taking care of it . . . well. I don't think you need me telling you what he'd do.”

Siha touched the pistol's grip. “I understand,” she heard herself say. _As if I'd let him take this. He'd have to get through me first._

Siha caught Kay studying her. The boy sported his own red welt on his neck.

“Aaah, now Ehraha will hear about this for sure,” Luuka said, rubbing his bald head. He stared at the dead man by his feet, expression torn and inward.

Siha gestured to the unconscious man. “I think you should take him back to camp for questioning. Maybe find out what Ehraha has planned.”

“Then what're we going to do with him?”

Siha shrugged. “That'd be Fhuhu's problem. Probably kill him.”

Luuka's face pulled, as if swallowing a lemon. “Siha. I know what happened to your grandda was—”

“I'm okay,” she said, and though she tried to keep her tone light, she knew Luuka saw through her. She turned around so she wouldn't have to see his pity. “I'll stay and bury the bodies. I'll also make sure to report if I see any more patrols,” she said.

“You sure?”

Siha smiled to herself. “I'll be fine. This isn't the first time I've been on lonely patrol. And besides, I have a rapid-pistol. It'll be properly charged.”

Luuka grunted. “Alright, then. Kay, you helping her bury the bodies or coming with me?”

But Kay was already heading to camp, slipping away like a cat. Siha tried not to let the dull blade dig deeper as she watched the boy's retreating back. _Can't you see I'm doing this for all of us?_ she wanted to shout, but bit her tongue. It would do her no good.

Luuka hefted the unconscious man across his shoulders and began following Kay. Only when she was sure both were gone she returned to the place she'd hidden the man. He was right where she left him, still stunned. She smiled with her teeth. _My rapid-pistol was charged perfectly, Luuka,_ she thought.

The teenager was short and lean. He moaned when she repositioned the gag. After several minutes of manoeuvring and nudging, she managed to heft him on her back and began the slow, labored trek to the river. It was the first boy all over again: instead of feeling the dead weight, she was floating. She didn't smell the teenager's rangy body odor or feel his young beard scratch her cheek. Her pain was of no consequence. She was almost surprised when she reached the white riverbed, and had to check to make sure it was the right place. Sweat dripped down her face. She deposited him on the smooth rocks and slowly passed in front of the shallow cave. She craned her neck, but it was no use. She was too far away to see its contents.

“Wraith?” she said. “Wraith, you there?” It was weird being so far away from camp and using a raised voice instead of woodspeak. She could hear her grandda's voice berate her lack of caution.

_Grandda._

Siha pulled herself up short. Through all of this, never once did she consider what would her grandda say of her choices if he were still alive. Would he agree with her extreme lengths to— _protect the camp_ , her ego shouted, but her id whispered, _to avenge his death._ Coldness stole over her as she realized the question staring her in the face the whole time:

Would she've still saved the Wraith if her grandda was alive?

She turned—to take the teenager away, to leave, she didn't know—and saw the Wraith feeding on him. She watched as if miles away. Her gore didn't rise. Her pulse didn't quicken. After seeing its particular fashion of feeding several times now, she found it almost anticlimactic. The Wraith growled when it finished. Only when it stood straight did she curl her finger around the rapid-pistol's trigger and shift her weight, gauging the distance between them. It was the first time they were completely alone.

The Wraith didn't limp when it took a step towards her, moving with a lithe grace Siha had no hope of matching. She twitched, but didn't step back. It was tall, taller than her by a full foot, its dark coat ending at its shoes. It stopped closer than she'd liked, but still a respectable distance away. The wound on its neck was gone.

“Now I lead patrols to you,” she said. She was glad her voice was steady.

“Give me a weapon.”

“No.”

The Wraith did its strange head-tilt. “How then do you expect me to incapacitate humans?”

“I don't know. How do you normally incapacitate humans?”

“With a weapon.”

Siha tried not to flush at its flat tone. She risked looking down at the rapid-pistol she'd taken from the teenager. She knew it be impossible for her to keep it. Not only would it draw too many questions, Fhuhu would take it away the moment he saw it. She knew Fhuhu only allowed her to retain possession of the rare weapon to avoid upsetting the camp's posthumous awe of her grandda. It was logical to give it to the Wraith. But what if it used it on her? Her gaze flitted to the freeze-dried corpse that had a pulse and breathed a minute ago. Though becoming blasé at watching it feed, her skin crawled at the thought of such a fate happening to her.

“If I gave one to you, how'd I know you wouldn't use it to kill me?” she asked.

The Wraith's regard was heavy. Then it said, “I am quite full.”

Siha stared at the Wraith. “What?”

“Is your hearing poor?”

“No, it just didn't answer my question.”

It was becoming the most surreal exchange she ever had. She'd think it was a poison-addled dream if it wasn't for stinging bugs whining in her ear. “How does that have anything to do with you not turning the weapon on me?”

The Wraith didn't roll its eyes or sigh. Aside from its earlier head-tilt, it hadn't moved throughout the conversation, projecting nothing. Though they spoke the same language, she was coming to realize conversing with a Wraith wasn't like conversing with another human. The facial cues she depended were either too changed or too subtle. Its eyes were too alien. The longer she studied the Wraith, the more she was aware its polite veneer hid a divide that spanned between them like an unbreachable distance. This was a creature in all ways vaster than her, more terrible, and powerful than she could ever be. She felt small before it.

“A Wraith does nothing outside of feeding,” it said, pulling her from her thoughts. “If he does, then he does it for his pleasure or curiosity alone.”

“You're saying you're not killing me . . . because you're curious?”

It didn't reply. _It doesn't need to. It's already given me its answer_ , she thought. For the time being, it wouldn't kill her. She supposed that was good enough.

“Alright,” she said. She was doing it. Inside she warred between _what are you doing_ and _let's get this over with._ “I'll give you this rapid-pistol. You charge it to make it work, but if you do it incorrectly, it will kill or not stun at all.”

It began walking towards her. “Show me.”

Her mind short-circuited, her prey instincts wailing. She remained rooted in place, too torn between running and staying put to move. Then it was in front of her, its chest filling her vision. She could smell that cobweb musk again. It took every inch of her inner steel not to run when she met its face, and even then she felt her legs begin to tremble. She spoke as if outside her body, hearing herself start explaining the mechanics of the rapid-pistol. How to charge it. How to clean it. Then she gave the Wraith the weapon, her face almost stone with how much she quivered inside. It could kill her if it wanted. _Like bending a fishbone,_ she thought for no reason.

But the Wraith's fingers were careful not to brush against her own, even when it took the rapid-pistol from her. Its dispassionate, faintly cool expression never shifted. Only when she not-so-subtly sidled away did its lips widen in what technically could be called a smile.

“It's a little late to start distrusting me,” it said, its strange multilayered voice like silk.

“What made you think I trusted you to begin with?”

“Very few humans have ever stood where you're standing now and weren't fed upon,” it said, still with that awful smile. “Only select members of your kind have ever enjoyed that precedence.”

Siha shuddered and changed the subject, promising she would return in several days. Then she left, returning to the place where she'd left the two bodies and spent the rest of the afternoon burying them. As she did, she realized the Wraith's lips had been a shade darker than the rest of its skin, perhaps the only feature identical to her own.

 

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.s.

 

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Long shadows from the sunset were stretching across the forest floor by the time Siha made it back to the camp. Her stomach rumbled non-stop. Her hands ached. She waved her way past the sentries and slumped to her hearth, unseeing and unhearing the commotion around her, still in the daze her interaction with the Wraith left her. She was in the process of slowly starting a fire when Kay ghosted in front of her.

“I didn't think you'd make it back,” he said without preamble.

Siha snapped the branch in her hand with more force than necessary. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Kay shifted on his heels. Siha expected him to leave, but after several more broken branches and fluffing some tinder, he'd yet to move. _Apologize,_ a little voice told her.

“Did the man we brought say anything?” she asked, hoping to brush over the tenseness.

Kay seemed to recognize the olive branch. “He was babbling the moment he woke and up to the point Fhuhu had him killed. Tough to understand, though. Luuka broke all his front teeth. But it's obvious he's saying we attacked first.”

She snorted. “This is the first time we've killed them in return. Of course they're going to get mad.”

“We've never taken prisoners before.”

“Up until five years ago their patrols weren't killing us either.”

Kay _mmn_ 'd, but said nothing else. He crouched down in a hunter's fashion, knees to his chest, and began helping her with the fire. Siha accepted his help wordlessly, the motions familiar and comforting. Something in her chest lightened as together they fanned a small fire to life.

“I'm sorry,” Siha said, letting the words sit on the humidity between them. Crickets were beginning to sing beyond the camp's boundaries.

Kay fussed with the fire with nimble, practiced hands. “I really didn't think you'd make it back.”

“I didn't think I'd make it back, either,” she replied, adopting his soft tone. She ran a dirty hand through her hair. “Hasn't killed me yet. If it does . . . well, know what I did was for the camp.”

“What are you going to do now?” Kay asked, a little too formal.

Siha debated telling him. “Going to lead enemy patrols to it,” she said, deciding. “The plan is to thin Ehraha's ranks so his camp will be less likely to attack us.”

Kay was quiet for a moment. “Wouldn't that make him angry? What if that makes him want to attack us even more? Already his people are convinced we're behind the death of the two boys.”

It was the young woman's turn to be quiet. Then she said, “What if we re-direct his anger? Make it clear it's a Wraith is attacking his people?”

Kay sucked in his breath.

Siha dropped her voice and leaned in. “Wraith are monsters. They wouldn't know to bury their victims. When Ehraha's camp sees the remains, they'll forget about us and focus on it.”

“Siha . . . I don't know. I don't know about this,” Kay said, shifting on his haunches as if repositioning for comfort. “This is just going to stir up more trouble. Already the camp is restless. We've never had a prisoner before and never publicly killed one either. Besides, what if they hunt the Wraith?”

“Then they hunt it.”

“And if they kill it?”

Siha shrugged. “Then they kill it and my plan was short-lived,” she said.

The pensive expression on Kay's face eased. Though he didn't speak again, she noticed the line of his shoulders loosened. They shared a meal in companionable silence, though heightened voices from the camp's centre disturbed their peace. Torches were lit as night settled on the camp, casting the various tents and dirt paths in orange shadows. Siha chewed her food, watching the people heading towards the centre like ants converging on a disturbed colony. Kay was right. The people were agitated. _And they'll be for a long time,_ she thought. _Because this isn't a problem that's going to go away even if the Wraith dies tomorrow._ In her bones she knew an attack was coming on her people, an attack that would threaten them all.

When Siha and Kay finished their meal they headed towards the large gathering. Nearly everyone was in attendance, all three hundred and sixteen of them. It felt good to have Kay by her side again. Murmurs swirled around them the closer they became.

“ . . . this what our camp is becoming? A cesspool of killers?”

“ . . . should go to Ehraha to talk . . .”

Someone snorted. “Ehraha won't listen to talking and you know it.”

“How'd you know? Are you the man himself?”

“No, but—”

“Ehraha let his people torture and behead my grandda,” Siha said, unable to keep quiet any longer. People moved out of the way as she stepped forward. “Of course the last thing he's thinking of is peace.”

“Siha. I was wondering when you'd join us,” Fhuhu said, turning. He stood on an elevated platform, the beads in his hair catching the torchlight. He spread his hands wide. “Surely burying two bodies didn't take all afternoon, did it? Unless, of course, you hacked them up the same way they hacked him.”

She didn't have to ask who he was referring to, and she saw in the faces of the camp they didn't either. _He's still sore from my comments this morning,_ she thought. The morning felt like a lifetime ago after such a physical and emotional day. She looked up at her camp's leader. After suffering the scrutiny of a far deadlier creature, she found the man a pale shadow. Fhuhu didn't frighten her. He was small.

“I was respectful, sir,” was all she said.

When it was clear she would say no more, Fhuhu moved on to address the uneasy camp. But before he did, their eyes had locked. She found it simple to hold his regard. She did it without thinking. Only when Kay nudged her she realized she'd been staring at her leader and he'd looked away first.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

Siha had told the Wraith she wouldn't return for several days, but no matter how much she tossed in her sleeping roll or punched her pillow, sleep would not come that night. Her mind kept returning to the cave by the riverbed, over and over. It was useless. At last she left her tent and sat by her fire and watched the sunrise stain the canopy with pink fire. Her eyes burned with exhaustion but she felt more focused and awake than in a long time. Her leg couldn't stop jittering. Birdcalls spilled over the sleeping camp, sweet and liquid. The young woman indulged herself by listening to them, but the restlessness continued to plague her. She tried eating some food, but it was tasteless to her.

Decision made, she forced herself to eat the rest of her protein cake and left the camp boundary, striking east. The camp sentries let her pass with professional disinterest, more focused on their dice game than a low-rank's comings and goings. At first the apathy had stung. When her grandda died, so did her rank in the camp. Now she was glad for it. As a low rank, she came and went as she pleased without the pressure higher ranks had to endure. Her freedom came at a high cost: she was often sent on lonely patrol without added guards. The chance of ending up dead was high.

She touched her grandda's rapid-pistol for comfort, slipping through the trees as quietly as she could, trying to emulate Kay's effortlessness. By now she knew the way to the riverbed by heart. The foliage passed by in an unremarkable blur, only once having to crouch to avoid being seen. It was a patrol of three from her camp, their members quiet and tense. They left after some time.

The young woman waited until she was sure they were gone before continuing on, crossing into forbidden no-man's land with practiced ease. Soon she could hear the river bubbling over its stones. Her pace slowed to a crawl, her heart starting to pound in her ears. Rather than face the question why she was so curious in the first place, Siha pretended she was testing her hunting skills. She kept inching forward until she reached a bank overhanging the river itself. Her vantage point provided a view of a great swath of river before it disappeared around a bend. Then she saw the Wraith.

It was up to its waist in the river, stripped bare in the early morning light. Its back was to her, its exposed skin pale and washed-out. It ducked its head in the water and came up, shaking its head. Tattoos swept across its shoulders and down its flanks in unfamiliar patterns. A raised line of ridges ran down its spine, not unlike a reptile's. Siha leaned forward, hands curling in the bark of the tree she hid behind. The rest of the Wraith was like a man, its body slender and well-toned, not a bruise or cut remaining of its near-death experience. Though the water must've been cold, it washed itself with unhurried strokes, pausing every so often to duck under the surface.

It would've been easier had the Wraith been ugly. Maybe then she wouldn't have developed such a restlessness to understand it. If the Wraith had been a human with features and a body like that, it would've been a prize for any woman or man. In the smaller camps outlying the forest, it probably would've been bartered to secure closer placement to the forest. But it wasn't human. It was Wraith. She watched it finish cleaning its hair. While the strands on Fhuhu's sword handle were frayed and yellow, this Wraith's gleamed like fresh salt. Its fingers were nimble and agile despite its claws. It tied its wet hair in a long tail as it waded out of the river. A part of her was glad it was still wearing its black pants.

It was fastening its collar around its throat by the time Siha walked into view. It didn't acknowledge her as it finished fussing with its uniform, even when she stopped within conversational distance. At last it said:

“I was wondering when you'd crawl out of hiding.”

Siha's blood drained from her face. _How . . .?_ “You knew I was here?”

It offered her a look without description. “I sensed you.”

 _Sensed_? she wondered.

“I'm surprised. You said you'd come back in several days, yet only one has passed,” the Wraith continued, already walking towards the shallow cave. Siha noticed some of its hair on the ground. As discreetly as she could she picked the strands and stuffed them in her jacket's inner pocket.

“I wanted to go over signals before we start our hunts,” she said, daring to raise her voice to be heard over the running water. She thanked all the gods it didn't seem angry she spied on it. “You must've noticed by now electronics don't work here.”

It stopped and faced her, shrewd. “Do you know what specifically causes the malfunctions?”

“Something in the forest.”

The young woman interpreted its continued scrutiny as suspicion and raised both her hands. “Honestly. None of us know. It's just an accepted fact passed down every generation. Everyone's grown up where electronic nav and comm. systems don't work; only the rapid-pistol functions, even its built-in targeting sequence. So if you and I want to communicate, we should use signals.”

“What kind of _signals,_ ” it handled the word as if it was a dirty curio, upper lip faintly curling, “did you have in mind?”

Siha began going over a truncated version of woodspeak, figuring it would take too long to cover the nuanced set she and Kay shared. Its dispassionate mien never wavered as she demonstrated. She almost caught herself teaching it facial expressions until she realized its face couldn't contort to the degree a human's could. Throughout the lessons they remained far enough apart for her to relax. Though the metaphysical distance between their two natures still existed, it easier to forget as the morning progressed.

She was soon marveling at how fast the Wraith learned. It retained the signals more quickly than any hunter she knew, and before long she was teaching the Wraith her and Kay's version. The riverbed warmed as morning passed into afternoon. After awhile she noticed her stomach growling.

“Let's take a break,” Siha said, despite the fact the Wraith didn't showed a micron of fatigue. Without waiting for its response she went to the river's edge and fished out a protein cake from a small pouch by her hip. She began to eat. Out of the corner of her eye she caught it watching her with a particular expression she was unable to interpret. Siha pretended she didn't notice and finished the cake in several more bites.

She was washing her face in the river when she heard the first distant whine of a ship. She froze. The wailing grew louder and multiplied. _Cull ships!_ Siha ran across the riverbed and dived into the cave without thinking. The Wraith also ducked inside, but far less urgency. It remained crouched by the entrance, peering at the sky with almost disdainful intrigue. They waited in silence, one gazing at the sky, the other staring at the cave's floor. Siha tried to judge the passage of time, but it was useless. She couldn't concentrate. _Can the ships sense me?_ she thought. She'd never been caught in a raid so far from the protective centre of the forest. The riverbed was practically wide open. The ships' harsh whines pierced her ears as they passed overhead. She wondered if they could sense her like the Wraith sensed her while it bathed.

“The forest must affect their systems too,” Siha heard herself say. She didn't know why she was talking. _Shut up. Shut up shut up._ “They've never been able use their ships to hunt us.”

The raucous din faded. Quiet returned. She could hear the bubbling of the river just outside.

The Wraith still peering upwards as it said, “If I were in charge, I would burn the forest down to smoke you out.” Then it looked at her, the yellow of its eyes gleaming.

It was still blocking her passage.

Siha stood, head almost brushing the cave's ceiling. “Let me through, please.” Her voice was calm but her heart was stuttering. The Wraith continued to crouch as if it hadn't heard her, elbows resting on its thighs, its hands between its knees. It seemed to loom over her despite the fact she was the one standing.

“Tell me about those humans,” it said.

“What?”

“The humans. The ones—” Some emotion leaked on its otherwise bland face as it exposed sharp, translucent teeth. “The ones who treated me so kindly. The ones you're hunting.”

“I'll tell you everything you want to know when let me through.”

For a moment she thought it would move towards her. It seemed strangely poised on the balls of its feet, as if it would shift into action at any second. She visualized pulling out her rapid-pistol, preparing but keenly aware it wouldn't stop the Wraith. When it finally stood, it took everything in her power not to shoot. Light flooded the entrance as the Wraith left the cave. Siha all but clambered out, struggling not to gasp, the horrible trapped feeling lifting. Breath returned. She made sure there was more distance between them than their earlier conversation, aware she was starting to develop a bad habits. She was making mistakes. _That was close,_ she thought, tamping down the hysterical urge to laugh. _Too close._

“Well?” the Wraith said. It didn't seem to notice her inner turbulence of emotions. It didn't seem to notice much of anything, impatient. “The humans?”

Siha latched on the normalcy and nodded. “Ehraha is their leader. That man hates your kind more than anyone I know. He would've ordered you killed the moment his patrols alerted him, which makes it obvious those three didn't say a word about you to him.”

Its face tightened at the trio's mention, but otherwise emoted nothing. Siha launched into what little she knew about her enemy, sharing the common knowledge her camp possessed. She made sure not to tell details of her own people, but the Wraith didn't seem interested in her. It looked away when she finished, towards something she couldn't see. When it became clear it wouldn't say anything else, she felt pressured to fill the silence between them.

“Do you think they'll do that? What you said before.”

It grunted. “Our feeding grounds are still too thin and will not sustain us all. The day will come when my kind will be hungry enough to eat their brothers.”

Siha licked dried lips. “Meaning?”

“Meaning when we become hungry enough,” it said, tone sharpening, “burning a world will be commonplace.”

She gestured at the empty sky. “Is that why you didn't join your people?”

“Those weren't 'my people,'” it said, a muscle jumping in its cheek.

“I see.”

One of its black-clad shoulders twitched as it continued to look towards the river. “Not all Wraith will have access to food,” it said. It sounded almost distracted.

“Oh,” she said. She blinked, connecting the dots. “You're one of the ones who won't get to eat. You're a low-rank, like me.”

Its head snapped towards her. She twitched under its glare. “No, no, that's not what I meant. I mean I understand—I'm a low-rank too—”

Its glare deepened.

“I mean, I understand your motivations,” she finished in a rush.

“My . . . 'motivations,'” it echoed, drawing out the word as if examining cloth to buy. Its clawed hands slowly furled and unfurled by its sides. She prepared to run. Then it said, “What are yours, then? Your, ah. 'Motivations.'”

“Humans protect their own,” she said. “I'm looking out for my people.”

“Surely there is more to it than that,” it said, vaguely mocking. Its pupils were slits in the sunlight.

Siha wasn't prepared to discuss her grandda's death with the Wraith. She switched topics, shielding her own eyes from the sun. Sweat ran down her face. She resisted the urge to dip in the river like the Wraith had.

“How often do you need to—” _feed_ “—eat?” she asked. She added, clarifying, “So we can time the hunts.”

“Once a week would be sufficient,” it said. It resumed staring at something beyond the river. If it were human, she'd consider it lost in thought.

“Then I'll see you in about a week. I'll come here first and take you to one of their patrol routes,” she said. She felt it was time to leave. Her throat ached from thirst and she didn't know how much longer her luck would hold. Since the ships left the Wraith's attention seemed split. She began leaving without fanfare. The creature didn't react, calmly accepting her departure as calmly as it accepted her arrival. Before she was out of earshot she paused.

“And I'm sorry for intruding on your privacy,” she said, turning with a formal bow. The movement was stiff and out of practice. “It won't happen again.”

Then she was striding into the forest. She didn't stop and see if the Wraith had noticed, and didn't stop until she couldn't hear the river. The forest was quiet, the ferns heavy and drooping in the summer air. Moss carpeted the weathered bark of the trees in thick green spreads. Birdsong filled the canopy. After taking one last look around, she crouched beneath several large bushes, reached into her pocket, and pulled out the Wraith's hair. She rolled it for a moment between her fingertips, marveling at how it gleamed like spider silk across her palms.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

In the privacy of her mind, Siha named the Wraith Angor. It was a word that meant extreme distress or suffocation, and having watched him kill three humans—twice beneath her own hand—it seemed fitting.

She stared out into the forest, chin propped in her hand. The bustle of the camp seemed faraway, unimportant. It was the sixth day since she'd left the eastern river, and for the third time in a row she'd spent the morning staring out into the green wilderness. The white hair burned in her vest pocket. Despite the fact Wraith parts provide the owner enormous prestige, she had no excuse to display it like Fhuhu did. There would be too many questions, questions she wouldn't know how to answer. She placed a hand over the pocket and closed her eyes.

“Siha.”

“Mm? Oh, Kay. It's you.”

Kay gestured at her cold hearth and half-eaten tuber. “You're going to be late to muster again.”

Slacking meant more patrols. The young woman stretched her arms over her head. “Then I'm going to be late to muster.”

She could hear his frown. “It isn't like you.”

“I've a lot on my mind,” she said. She poked the ashes of her dead campfire with a twig. Siha lowered her voice. “I'm going to try my plan with the Wraith soon.”

The boy's shoulders tightened. He slowly sank down to his haunches besides her, expression closed.

She tossed the twig. “Today or tomorrow.”

“Siha . . .”

“Don't worry. I'm not going to involve you,” she said. The young woman chuckled. Nothing was funny. “I think it's best that way.”

“I don't think I can save you when it'll turn on you,” Kay said. _When._ Not _if._ Siha sobered.

“You two!”

Both looked up. Luuka was walking toward them, shaking his head. When he came within conversational distance he said, “Fhuhu sent me. You're both late to muster as is!”

Kay and Siha stood. She packed the necessities for patrol, patting her front vest pocket once more. Her pulse quickened, an idea taking shape. She followed Luuka's footsteps on instinct alone, mind already three steps ahead. She didn't notice the murmurs or shifting bodies when she was led in front of Fhuhu's platform.

“This is the third time this week you're late,” Fhuhu said as greeting. He scratched his chin, sighing. “I ignored the other two times, but there's a limit to my leniency. As for you, Kay—”

“Let me go alone as punishment, sir,” Siha said, stepping forward. “I was the reason Kay was late.”

“Ohhhhhh?” Fhuhu said. Others around her paused. It was dangerous to go on lonely patrol these days. “I'm not that cruel.”

“It's alright. It's my duty.”

Kay stepped up to touch her arm. “Siha, what're you—”

She flashed him a look in woodspeak. _It's now._

Fhuhu's eyes were keener than most. “'Now'? What's now?”

“A promise I've made,” Siha said, still looking at Kay, willing him to understand. She was close enough count his eyelashes. Then she glanced back up at her leader. “I go without regrets, sir.”

Fhuhu made a show of shrugging. “Alright. Punishment accepted. You're to patrol the northern slopes for new game trails. Good hunting.” The traditional farewell was said with the appropriate amount of concern and charisma, but she noticed his gaze dip to the rapid-pistol strapped to her thigh. Siha resisted the urge to smile when she saw him swallow.

When she was released, the young woman started off in a northerly direction. When she passed beyond the camp's sight, she veered eastward. In no time at all she reached the riverbed in no-man's land, her feet following the familiar trail. She found the Wraith kneeling in his cave, hands steepled together around one leg. His eyes were closed. She whistled the _I'm here_ signal, and was pleased when he looked at her.

They didn't speak. Goosebumps erupted along her arms as the Wraith followed her into the woods, his presence a physical pressure between her shoulders. He was so quiet she had to make sure he hadn't disappeared twice. At one point she motioned them to hide from her own camp's patrol, ducking deep beneath the ferns. Angor looked at her for confirmation, palming his rapid-pistol. She shook her head. _Not them._ She waited until her camp's patrol fell out of sight, then kept going. She pushed sweaty hair from her face. Humidity pressed all around them. She glanced at Angor out of the corner of her eye and saw his breathing was slow and measured, expression calm. Though he didn't acknowledge her, she knew he was aware of her. It was an odd sensation. Her heart beat faster.

The land turned unfamiliar as they crossed into Ehraha's territory. It'd been her camp's land in the time of her grandda's youth, but after years of skirmishes, it now belonged to the larger camp. Siha didn't want to wander too deeply. She noticed broken branches and trampled ferns and judged it was a common patrol path. _They're so arrogant they don't even bother hiding their traces,_ she thought. She crouched down, choosing a moss-covered log as her vantage point. She had the Wraith below and at her nine o'clock. She checked her rapid-pistol. Perfectly charged.

She didn't know how long they waited. Life on patrol had taught her the value of patience, and she experienced the passage of time one would experience water flowing over fingers. Her vantage point allowed her to covertly observe her hunting partner. Angor didn't swat at the stinging flies or reposition for comfort, crouching as if made of stone. While her patience was a product of years of practice, the Wraith seemed born to an inner stillness. She wondered if all Wraith were that motionless, or if it was a personal characteristic.

Their forbearance was rewarded. A small Ehraha patrol trudged towards them, only three strong. They walked without the crouching run Kay and Siha used and two of their group spoke aloud. The woman of their group laughed. Siha couldn't believe her luck. She caught Angor's eye and motioned, _Shoot when I shoot._ He twitched, the first movement in hours, and leaned forward.

Siha shot the one middle in the chest. Angor's shot followed a millisecond behind, catching the woman in the head. Both fell like broken dolls. The remaining man tried to run but found a snarling Wraith in front of him. Angor forced the human down with one arm, the other ripping open the man's shirt. He pressed his feeding hand against the bare chest and covered the screams as he began to feed, face contorted with pleasure. Siha watched from atop the log, too shocked to move. When had the Wraith crossed the distance? He'd been in the ferns not seconds before.

Siha made a second discovery. _Two rapid-pistols make all the difference,_ she thought _._ In the forest where most electronics malfunctioned, rapid-pistols had few equals. Siha knew the hunting would become harder over time, but for now, she relished her enemy's unpreparedness. They was still unafraid and unwary.

_You killed the wrong grandda, you bastards._

The Wraith hissed under his breath he removed himself from the desiccated corpse. He went to the second man and repeated the process. The man withered to nothing. By the time the Wraith reached the woman, his movements were slower. He paused to study the woman's face, their noses almost touching. Siha thought he would kiss her. The Wraith grunted, sat up, and fed upon her as he did the other two men. It took Angor so long to turn her into a withered husk Siha was paranoid another patrol would come by. She crawled off her log and hurried to him. He blinked slowly at her as she approached.

 _We have to get out of here,_ she gestured. _Help me hide the bodies._

The bodies were the texture of boiled leather as she lifted them. They weighed nothing at all. Angor moved like a lizard caught in a springtime chill, making her wonder if she'd imagined his lightening quickness in the first place. Though they worked side-by-side, she didn't fear his touch. They crammed the bodies into a crevice beneath the log, and when they were hidden enough, she led the Wraith back to no-man's land. Though slower than before, he was no less silent. Siha sighed a breath of relief when they reached the riverbed. She looked up. The sun was dipping behind the trees, the shadows lengthening. Crickets chirruped.

“I haven't been this sated in quite some time,” the Wraith said, his first spoken words all day. He turned slowly to face her, the sharp planes of his face catching the dying sunset. “This is a good arrangement. I feed while you have your revenge.”

“This isn't revenge for me,” Siha began, but stopped when Angor made a sharp, repeated sound. He was chuckling.

“Humans. You fool yourselves in thinking you have a micron of cunning.”

Siha stiffened. “You call yourself any better? All you Wraith do is eat and destroy.”

Angor's strange laughter dissipated, but his gleaming smile didn't. “True,” he said, something dangerous in his tone. “Wraith are born to feed. Humans are born thinking they're clever.”

Siha tried again. “This isn't revenge. My arrangement with you is so my people—”

The Wraith snorted and began walking back to the shallow cave, leaving her to stand with fists by her sides.

By the time Siha returned to the camp, night had fallen. She trudged past the multitude of tents, suddenly more exhausted than she'd realized. She walked along the dirt paths hard-packed and smooth from generations of use, each one familiar and well-loved. Laughter and chatter filtered around her. She smelled the sweet odor of a tuber stew in a pot and her mouth began to water. _Hunger was the root of all our problems,_ she thought, staring in the direction of the aroma. Wraith were hungry, so they hunted humans and destroyed worlds. Humans were hungry to survive, so they killed their neighbor to hide in a better house. Each hunger drove the other, round and round and round, like the great ouroboros devouring its own tail. _To eat is to live, and all things want to live,_ she thought, filled with an inexplicable sadness. And old woman trudged past her, then a man. The bustle of the camp didn't stop. Siha closed her eyes.

“Looks like you made it back alive.”

Siha opened her eyes. Fhuhu stood in front of her. In the orange light of the multiple campfires he seemed to carry shadows under his eyes.

“Looks like I did,” she said, the exhaustion redoubling. She wanted to sleep for an eternity.

“Anything to report?”

Her mind went blank. _Well, I fed an Ehraha patrol to a Wraith, how's that for report?_ “Nothing, sir,” she said, remembering the original mission. It felt like a lifetime ago. “Didn't notice any game trails.”

Fhuhu _mm_ 'd, shifting his weight. Light glinted off the sword displayed on his hip, its grip bound in Wraith hair. Her gaze lingered on it a little too long. Fhuhu patted it, chuckling.

“Like it, eh? If I catch you stealing it, I'll cut your nose off.”

 _You keep your little sword,_ she thought as he walked away. _I have something better._

 

...

 

_TBC_

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. III

.

 

“I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted  
to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.  
How free it is, you have no idea how free.”  
―Sylvia Plath, _Ariel_

 

_._

 

_._

 

.s.

 

.

 

After three weeks of hunting with a near-silent Wraith, Siha could hear Kay's footsteps now.

She saw a little stutter of surprise in his step when she turned to see him approaching her fire.

“The camp's been talking about you,” he said when he sat besides her. He broke some of his bread and gave it to her.

“They running out of things to gossip about?” she said, smiling. She ate the bread, enjoying its nutty flavor. Five days ago had been another successful expedition with Angor. They'd killed all four without serious mishap, and though the patrols now traveled without talking and displayed caution, they'd yet to adapt to the double-pistol attack. Siha was learning too. Over the three weeks of hunting with the Wraith, she learned he had the power to cast illusions and make people see things. Often the patrols would begin striking at something unseen, reacting in fear. The distraction threw the patrol off-balance and allowed Siha and Angor to stun them quickly.

“They're saying you've changed.”

“Hm?” Siha slapped away a mosquito. “Have I?”

Kay studied her for a moment. “You walk differently. You don't bow to the higher-ranks. You take lonely patrol more than anyone.”

Siha lowered her voice. “You know why I take lonely patrol.”

At the boy's silence, she continued, “It's been three weeks. We've must've killed . . . fifteen, eighteen people. Oh, Kay. He's amazing to watch. I've never seen anything like it bef—”

“'He'?”

Siha blinked. “What?”

“When did _it,_ ” Kay said, leaning in, “become ' _he_.'”

She flushed. “I don't know. Does it matter?”

“Siha.”

“Do you want Ehraha's camp to push us out of the forest and into the cull zone? I'm doing this for our people.”

“Some lines aren't meant to be crossed,” Kay said, still staring at her as if she'd grown wings. Or become a Wraith herself. “You're seeing it as a person. This is going—this goes too far.”

“Stop me, then,” she said quietly.

Kay leaned away, upper lip curling. It was odd seeing the Wraith's similar habit on the boy's face. “The others will when they find out. Not if _,_ _when._ I'm sure Ehraha's camp will any day now, if they haven't already.”

“They're cautious now,” Siha admitted. She stoked the fire. “We've been careful to change our patterns, but there's only so many places we can hunt before traveling too deep in Ehraha's territory. We hide the bodies the best we can, but I'm sure they'll discover the truth.”

“This is dangerous.”

“I know,” she said. And it was. Yet how could she explain to Kay how alive she felt when she hunted with the Wraith? How the pleasure of hunting her grandda's killers went beyond that of hunting deer or rabbits? After she found her grandda's dismembered head three years ago, her life had dissolved into a blur of empty motions. When she lost her rank and was forced to patrol in dangerous territory, she'd resigned herself to die. Now everything was different. And despite the depth of her and Kay's friendship, Siha knew she could never mention her fascination with the Wraith. She wanted to understand him, which in her heart of hearts knew it was taboo. He was a Wraith: a people-eater, a world-destroyer. In a very real sense, her enemy. She knew she was getting in too deep, the fear she'd walked in with diminished. Gone? _More like removed,_ she thought, even in her own mind unsure what to call her strange disregard towards her own life. A part of her urged her to stop. She feared the day the urge would disappear altogether, and what it would mean for her.

As Kay stood up he said, “You're my friend, Siha, and I care for you more than any living person. But you're going down a path I can't follow and when the others find out—” His voice caught. He took a steadying breath and finished, “When they find out, you're going to be beyond my help.”

Siha remained quiet and preoccupied after Kay left. She tried to make sense of her emotions, but only managed to tangle herself further. It was no use. In an attempt for normalcy, the young woman went through the motions of inspecting her rapid-pistol, popping its service panel open to check the state of the wires. She began to whistle as she worked. Then she remembered the Ehraha girl had who tormented the Wraith had whistled too. She stopped.

“Care to tell me what you're hiding?”

Siha froze. “What?”

When she finally twisted in her seat, she found Fhuhu looming over her, expression placid. “You're not thinking of overtaking me, are you?”

Though his tone was mild, she was reminded why she'd once trembled before him. “What? No, of course not,” she said, trying not to slump with relief. He still didn't know about the Wraith.

“Then want to be my wife?”

Siha stared at Fhuhu, glad she was sitting down. She didn't know whether to laugh or slap him.

He continued: “Granted, you'll be my third one, but your status will rise and you won't have to go into the forest. You're growing up into a fine woman, Siha, fit and healthy. It'd be a shame to see you die on lonely patrol.”

“I . . .” Siha licked her lips. She stood up. “We don't have time for marriages, sir. Ehraha may attack any day.”

“I don't see him attacking now,” Fhuhu said, making a show of looking around. “Besides, it's not like we're attacking _him_.”

Siha bit her inner cheek. “There's food shortages to think about. We need to expand.”

“Expand where? Into the outskirts, where Wraith hunt and lawless camps patrol? Into Ehraha's territory? I won't hear of it. But I will hear your answer to my proposal.”

“You honor me, Fhuhu. Sir. I'll have to think about it.”

“You should keep in mind I'm much more lenient on my wives than I am on low-ranks. I still think you're hiding something. Sooner or later I'm going to find out.”

Siha watched him leave out of the corner of her eye. Marriage? With him? She shivered. She was nearly twenty cycles old. While Fhuhu certainty had power and was handsome enough, but he didn't interest her like the Wraith did. She rubbed her arms as she shivered again. It didn't surprise her Fhuhu could tell she was keeping a secret: he was leader, his instincts keener than most. _I'll worry about Fhuhu later,_ she thought. The young woman tried cleaning her rapid-pistol again, but concentration escaped her. _I need to get away,_ she thought. The image of the eastern riverbed came unbidden.

The motions were practiced. The familiar anticipation warmed her belly as she packed for another hunt. She passed by the sentries with a murmured, “Lonely patrol,” and hurried into the deep green, slapping at circling insects. The humidity clung to her like a second skin as she entered the heart of the forest. Ferns rustled. At one point she dipped in a small crevasse under two large rocks to escape the heat, enjoying the damp chill. The fresh air smelled like wet moss and cold stone. In moments like these Siha could almost forget about conflict between her two camps, or the looming threat of the Wraith. Even the absence of her grandda seemed far away. She remained huddled in the cold and the quiet, listening to the slow drag of her lungs and the heartbeat in her ears. _Alive,_ the forest seem to say. _You're alive._

After a time she resumed her trek, taking care to avoid her own patrols. She breathed easier once she crossed in the no-man's land. She could hear the river and hurried, making a detour to swim first. She was nearly at the water's edge when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She turned around.

The Wraith stared at her a foot away.

“You're two days early,” he said coolly.

She covered her surprise with a cough. “We should stagger when we hunt,” she replied, heart in her throat. He had approached her without sound or notice. “They'll suspect something if we always keep attacking the same number of days.”

The Wraith's leather creaked as he straightened. She wondered if the heat was unbearable in his long leather coat, but aside from a light sheen on his skin, he didn't appear discomforted. He was unreadable to her.

“Very well,” he said. She couldn't tell if he was irritated or intrigued.

“Give me a moment,” she said, then hurried to the river. There was no time to swim, so she kneeled down and washed her face in the stream. She sighed in relief at the coolness, the water sweet on her tongue. She returned to find Angor waiting for her, staring off into the forest. A herringbone braid swept the long hair out of his face while the rest flowed down his shoulders. _For a low rank, he really prides himself on appearances,_ she thought. He was surprisingly fastidious, making her uncomfortably aware of her own mussy, unkempt ponytail. As she passed him the Wraith angled his body away, keeping his feeding hand out of sight. Siha pretended not to notice.

The young woman no longer cast furtive glances behind her as she led the Wraith into Ehraha's territory. In the privacy of her mind she hesitated to say what fell between them was _natural,_ because nothing was natural about their arrangement, but there was a rhythm not unlike the one she shared with Kay whenever they hunted together. She choose a spot and hunkered down to wait for an Ehraha patrol. Angor automatically moved into a good position for a crossfire, finger ghosting over his weapon's trigger as he settled into his unnatural stillness. They waited for—minutes? hours?—a stretch of time before Siha heard the approach of a patrol. She readied herself, feeling her heartbeat quicken. The patrol rounded a dry creek bed, moving slowly, alert, their cudgels held ready.

Then Siha saw her.

It was the girl, the same one who had tormented the Wraith. Her face was pale and drawn. Siha shifted without thinking. The girl froze like a deer scenting fire, head snapping towards Siha's position in the fern bed. Their eyes met.

The girl spun on her heel and took off. The Wraith tore after her. The patrol scattered like minnows, their faces turning white.

“Wraith! Oh gods, it's a Wr—”

Angor shot the speaker in the face but didn't stop, still running like a bullet fired from a gun after the girl. Siha shot on pure inertia, but her aim was off and only clipped a shoulder. The man stumbled but kept running, disappearing into the foliage with the other man. Within seconds Siha was alone, her breathing loud and harsh in her ears. She took a moment to collect herself, the silence was thunderous.

She couldn't stay. The patrol would alert their camp and the forest would be crawling with Ehraha's people. _It's okay. I planned for this. You knew it wouldn't last forever._

But it was too soon. They'd barely made a dent in Ehraha's numbers. The young woman forced herself to move, her hands like ice. She let the stunned man be, too shaken to kill. Siha made her way back to the river and waited by the cave. She patrolled the riverbed, every rustle and sound from the forest giving her hope the Wraith would appear. But by the time shadows began stretching across the ground, her disappointment was a physical taste in her mouth. She waited as long as she could, but by sunset forced herself to pull away.

When Siha reentered the camp, she avoided everyone and ignored the look Kay passed her way. She crawled into her sleeping roll without eating, her stomach too tumultuous to hold food.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

Siha awoke unrested, her belly in knots. Was it from fear they would link the Wraith to her? Fear for the Wraith himself? Her stomach turned further. Why should she care? He was a people-eater, a creature responsible for so much heartbreak and death. She knew their arrangement would one day come to an end. Something akin to nausea clutched her throat. Was it fear for herself? Suddenly she could see her future laid out as if it were a drab tapestry: the Wraith, killed. Her, returning to the drudgery of useless days, unable to avenge her grandda's murder. How much life had hunting with the Wraith breathed into her? And now, to have it snatch away—

She physically shook her head to dislodge the thought. It was too painful. Her lungs seemed to have difficulty filling.

 _Get a hold of yourself,_ she thought.

When Siha finally emerged from her tent, she noticed a strange anxiety in the camp. It buzzed in the air like an electric current. Everywhere she turned she saw people gathered in small groups, their mutters low and rapid. Once or twice she thought she heard the word _Wraith._ After washing her face and re-holstering her rapid-pistol, she began searching for Kay. She found him near Luuka's fire.

“Kay! What's going on?” she said when she neared him.

The boy didn't speak until they were within whispering distance. “Didn't you hear? Ehraha sent a messenger yesterday warning us about a Wraith in the woods.”

“ _Ehraha_ warned _us_ about the Wraith?” Siha said. She blinked. “What? I don't believe it!”

“The messenger said, 'The threat of the Wraith goes beyond our petty squabbles.' They request a short truce so they can search no-man's land for its lair.” His face was carefully neutral as he watched her. “Looks like the Wraith's finally been discovered. Won't be long before they find and kill it.”

Siha swallowed hard. “When?” she asked. Her voice was steady. “When do they start their search?”

“At the rate of the talks . . . by tomorrow afternoon,” Kay said. “Fhuhu is going to start a pool of volunteers to help Ehraha's camp. The good news is they're blaming the Wraith for their peoples' deaths, not us. Isn't that good? Siha?”

“I have to go.”

“Siha, wait! Fhuhu's going to want to talk with everyone.”

But she was already slipping into the forest, pushing through ferns and bushes. The Wraith hair in her vest pocket burned as she put distance between her and the camp. She was tempted to throw it away. Calloused fingertips brushed over the pocket and paused. _What are you doing?_ a still small voice said. _Let the camps catch the Wraith. You should be back at the camp, pretending to be afraid. Accept it._

It was the only logical conclusion.

The young woman didn't encounter any patrols on her way to the eastern riverbed, making her wonder if Fhuhu had recalled them all. A part of her twitched, again urging her to abandon her foolishness. The Wraith would be dead soon, if not already. She rested her hand over the pocket and closed her eyes, listening to the forest around her. A breeze came through, rustling the ferns in the undergrowth. Birds sang to each other in the trees. She sniffed. _The wind's changing_ , she thought for no reason.

She reached an empty riverbed. A thorough search of the cave and surrounding rocks revealed no new traces of activity. _Where are you?_ she thought to herself. She gnawed on her lower lip.

Unable to decide whether to stay or go, Siha found herself pacing, her soft-soled shoes padding over the rocks. The burble of the river did little to entice her. She splashed water on her face when the day reached its hottest point, but refrained from swimming. When the hunger became too great she ate a protein cake without tasting it. She paced until the sun descend in the sky, disappearing behind the thick trees. Insects whined.

When the sky bled orange she nearly melted with relief when she found the Wraith emerging from the forest.

“You!” she shouted as loud as she dared. “I thought you'd—” _been captured killed missing left gone._

The Wraith approached without hurry, his leather coat meticulous. He stopped within conversational distance, the shadows making his brow ridges seem sharper, his eyeshine brighter. In that instant there was something more Wraithlike about him than ever before. He stared at her. Then his hair caught the last rays of sunlight and the moment passed.

“Your revenge? Did you get it?” she asked instead, switching topics. She could hear the pulse in her ears and wondered if he could hear it too.

The widest smile she'd ever seen stretched across Angor's face, his eyes hooding. His tone modulated to a purr. “Her screams were lovely while they lasted.”

Siha shifted, fighting the urge to shudder. She didn't dare ask for details, glad she wasn't there. She dredged up the courage to ask the next question, not sure if prepared for the answer. “Now that those three are dead, what are you going to do?”

There was a delicate shrug. “I see no reason to discontinue our arrangement.”

Siha nodded, elated. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Okay. Then you should know this place is going to be crawling with people by tomorrow afternoon, hunting for you.”

“Will they now,” the Wraith said, almost with amusement. His feeding hand furled and unfurled.

“You can't stay here. I'm worried if they find you, they'll . . .” Her voice fell away as the Wraith suddenly fixed a weapon's-grade focus on her. His lips pulled from teeth in a strange, untranslatable smile.

“Ohhhh? A human, worried for a Wraith?” He tipped his head and took a deliberate step forward. Siha stood her ground. Inside, she trembled.

“Let one thing be clear,” he said. Leather creaked as he leaned forward. His feeding hand could touch her chest if he wanted.“As much as your worry is amusing, you are nothing more than kine to me: food. You are but dust. I suggest you do not forget that.”

His words were blades, slicing her with measured, dispassionate cuts. There was no hate in his tone, no anger, no pity. There was nothing. Yet she felt stripped bare, more naked than if he'd pulled off her clothes. Then he was striding away, coat swishing about his feet as he headed towards the cave. Only his salt-white hair stood out in the growing murk. Soon he would blend in the dark all together.

“You should go back to your people,” he said over his shoulder.

Her voice was a croak. “But tomorrow—”

The Wraith stopped, turning so she only saw his profile. There was just enough light for her to catch a flash of sharp teeth. “You misplace your concern, human. You should worry about yourself.”

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

Siha stumbled away from the riverbed as if disconnected from her legs. Her hands and face felt cold, her stomach tight to the point of pain. It was so dark she could barely see her feet. When she tripped over a root she stayed where she fell, clenching her hands in the dirt. Old pine needles and gritty soil pricked her palms. Her ankle stung.

 _No more,_ she thought.

As the young woman stared into the darkness of the forest, she realized she saw more clearly than ever before. Of course working with a Wraith would never work. Despite saving his life and hunting for weeks by his side, she was nothing but food to him. No amount of working together or fascination would change that. He was her predator. She was prey.

_Kay was right. I was such a fool._

Maybe it was a good thing the Wraith would be discovered. Siha settled herself by a tree, feeling her way by touch alone. The aromatic smell of old bark turning to mulch wafted over her. It was useless to travel at night. Not only would traveling back to the camp without light would be dangerous, the sentries might think she was from Ehraha's camp and stick an arrow in her. Suddenly dealing with humans was too much. She needed to sort her mind first, and it didn't help Angor's words were still rattling around in her head like dry bones.

The future was all so clear, unraveled in perfect sequence. Once the camps cornered and killed the Wraith, she would continue living. She would avenge her grandda and protect her people another way. _Besides, it's getting too dangerous working with him_ , she thought. She recalled his cool breath on her cheek, the skin over her chest crawling. She'd long lost control over the situation. _Best to get out while I can,_ she thought.

Siha kept a finger on her rapid-pistol's trigger as she curled in on herself, her lids growing heavy. She'd slept outside the camp only twice before, once with her grandda as guard, the other after his death. Without her vision she could hear the forest more clearly. A nighttime breeze touched her cheek, unseen. An animal scurried in the undergrowth. Ferns rustled. At one point she thought she was being watched, but no matter how much she strained her eyes, she couldn't see anything. When nothing tried to eat her Siha relaxed in increments, her grandda's rapid-pistol a comfort in her hands.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

Morning arrived pink and cool. Sunlight filtered through the trees in soft, gray light, waking the young woman from her sleep. She wiped away the faint layer of dew that had settled on her leather jacket and pants during the night and climbed to her feet, grimacing at her body's general soreness. She checked her surroundings for any patrols. There were none. After relieving herself behind a bush, she once-over'd her rapid-pistol's charge and began heading towards the camp. As she walked she ate her last protein cake, relishing its nutty, greasy flavor. The early air was cool against her face, smelling the rich loamy soil and vibrant leaves.

When Siha strode into camp people turned their heads and stopped, a silence falling over them. A couple put down the cart they were pushing. Children stopped their play and crowded around their parents' legs. Siha frowned but ignored it. She hadn't taken more than twenty steps before regretting not taking the long way around to avoid everyone. _What's with everybody,_ she thought. The air was subdued, as if the lull of dawn hadn't lifted yet despite it being mid-morning. The last time she'd encountered such a hush was when a patrol brought back her grandda's head. She shuddered despite herself, fingers twitching over her rapid-pistol.

“Siha!”

Siha bit the inside of her cheek and stopped. When she turned she found Fhuhu walking towards her, the beads in his blonde hair clicking against each other. Two guards flanked him. Four other sentries trailed behind, including Luuka. People moved out of the way, giving them a wide berth.

“Care to explain where you were yesterday and last night?” Fhuhu asked. Siha couldn't help but notice Angor often stopped closer to her than Fhuhu did now. _I really did lose control,_ she thought with a strange ruefulness. It was amazing the Wraith hadn't fed on her during their joint venture.

“Lonely patrol,” she said. “I was looking for food.”

“That's interesting. Because out of everyone you go on patrols more than anyone, but you bring back the least. Most times nothing at all.”

Siha lifted her chin. “You think I'm eating what I'm catching?”

“I don't think you're catching anything at all,” Fhuhu said quietly. In a louder voice, so all could hear, he said, “Luuka saw you leaving no-man's land.” He spread his hands. “Care to explain?”

A sick thrill raced up Siha's stomach. She said nothing.

“Entering the land between the two camps is forbidden for a reason,” Fhuhu continued. “If either side disregards this, there will be no order. The penalty is death, Siha. You know this.”

Blood drained from her face. “Even if Ehraha patrols steal our lands? Even if they kill and behead us?” she said. She held herself tall. “Fhuhu, no-man's land is a false comfort. Soon they will drive us out—”

“Enough!” Fhuhu shouted. He rubbed a hand over his mouth as Siha subsided like a gray sea. “Enough. Have you ever considered Ehraha executed the men who did that to your grandda? Have you ever considered he punishes those he catches crossing the forbidden territory? No, you probably haven't. Instead, you're too busy crossing no-man's land in search of your own justice, provoking both his camp and my generosity. Do you really want either?”

“He already encroaches on our land!”

“Do you honestly think I don't know that?” His voice was very soft.

Siha could feel herself sinking, as if the ground beneath her feet was softening to swallow her whole. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “You know my answer. Sir.”

Fhuhu inclined her head. “There won't be a war between our camps. I believe it and will continue to believe it.”

“But their patrols cross it anyway to kill us!”

“And Ehraha executes them in turn.”

Siha blinked. “You can't seriously believe that.”

“I do,” Fhuhu said. “Because without that iron-clad rule, we'd be as lawless as the nomad camps outside the forest. Ehraha knows that. I know that. But returning to the point at hand: this wasn't the first time Luuka's seen you leave the forbidden territory.”

Siha rounded on the bald man. Luuka lifted his hands helplessly. “I'm sorry, Siha. I let it slide all the other times because I thought—I don't know what I thought. But what Ehraha told us about the Wraith hiding there . . .” Luuka looked away. “I'm sorry.”

A circle had formed without her notice. She recognized many of the sentries. Most carried cudgels. One carried bindings.

“Ehraha's messenger says the Wraith couldn't have worked alone,” Fhuhu said, his mild tone a tightening noose around her neck. “After all, why would the Wraith _only_ attack Ehraha's people?”

“All you have are coincidences,” Siha said. She was glad her voice was steady.

Fhuhu pursed his lips. “Do I?”

He waved a hand. Someone was pushed between two sentries. It was Kay. His nose was bloody and there was a gash over his eyebrow where he'd been punched. A sentry held him in place, his large hand dwarfing the boy's thin shoulder. Siha wanted to rush to her friend's side but held herself in place, a fire in her belly. Their eyes met. Kay shook his head with a twitch, lifting his hand to make a sign only they knew.

_I'm sorry._

“He told us everything, Siha.” Fhuhu's expression was both repulsed and fascinated. Her fate was sealed. “I think you have some explaining to do.”

“My grandda never hurt any of the camp,” she said. Her voice was hollow in her ears. She didn't look away from Kay's bruised face, remembering the bruises on her grandda's own. Her voice shook. “He would never do this to his people.”

“I wonder how he'd react if he ever knew you consorted with a _Wraith—_ ”

Siha aimed her rapid-pistol between his eyes.

Fhuhu froze, blinking. “Siha, wait.”

“I did it for the camp.”

“We'll talk about it in private. Now, lower your—”

“I've overcharged it,” she said. Her gaze didn't leave Fhuhu. “No matter whoever comes at me, I'm killing you first. Then maybe we'd have a leader who'll take the threat of Ehraha's camp seriously.”

Fhuhu didn't look away from the rapid-pistol, face paling further. A sentry tensed. A cudgel shifted.

Then the ominous buzz came, faint at first but growing in strength. _Cull ships,_ Siha thought.

A hush fell over the camp as the whining grew louder. Siha didn't break her stare from Fhuhu, her rapid-pistol never wavering. Fhuhu's gaze was electric. The shrieking grew louder and louder until it sounded like they were circling right above. Siha twitched, fighting the urge to look up. It wouldn't matter. The thick canopy of trees hid the ships from view, just as they hid the camp from the Wraith. Everyone held their collective breath, waiting as they've always done for the Wraith to give up and leave.

When the first boom rocked the forest, no one moved. A second blast hit the canopy like a thunderclap, causing a treetop to engulf into a fiery blaze. The camp watched in spellbound silence as flaming bits of pulp rained down. A tent caught fire and began belching thick, stinging smoke. The air soon reeked of burning canvas. Someone screamed.

The unnatural calm broke. People scattered like ants from a kicked hive, families calling each other over the increasing din. Fhuhu disappeared into the throng, shouting for calm, his voice tiny against the bombardment. Carts overturned. More tents caught fire and began coughing smoke. The cull ships continued assault. They systematically aimed at the camp's outskirts, working their way inward. The canopy roiled and turned the sky black with its smoke. It'd been a hot summer: in no time the fire ate their way down the trunks to devour the underbrush below. Siha watched as people gave up trying to beat the flames and abandoned their possessions to escape the spreading fire. Her insides chilled. _They're driving us out,_ she thought.

Siha's eyes stung and watered as her world burned around her. It was too loud to think over the screaming ships. She fell away, staggering. It wasn't happening. It was nothing but a terrible dream. _Wake up. Wake up wake up._

Kay skidded in front of her. His mouth was moving but she couldn't comprehend the words. He gripped her arm. Sound returned.

“—ave to go! Siha!”

“Right.”

Siha holstered her rapid-pistol and began to run after him. They shoved their way through the thinning crowds, smoldering pulp and broken branches peppering them like hellish rain. Kay led her down the now-unrecognizable paths she'd known since she was a girl. She struggled to breathe in the superheated air. Her eyes ran. When they were far enough away from the camp they paused to look at what remained of their home. The fire would soon catch and spread in earnest. In less than twenty minutes it would be ablaze.

“We have to get out of here,” Kay said with a shuddering breath. His face was streaked with soot. “The fire will soon burn the whole forest down.”

Siha instantly went cold as a memory of the Wraith's smooth voice hissed in her ear.

— _burn the forest down to smoke you out—_

It couldn't be. The Wraith hadn't been able to reach them for generations upon generations. Yet Siha knew it had to be the only explanation.

“I did this,” she said, all the wind pressed from her lungs. When she struggled for air the smoke having nothing to do with it.

Kay was already hurrying away, but doubled back when he noticed Siha wasn't following.

“Siha! We have to keep going,” he said. “We have to get out of the forest or we'll burn.”

“The Wraith will get us if we leave the forest,” Siha heard herself say. _You did this. You killed your people_.

“We'll deal with that later,” Kay said, reaching for her. He grabbed her arm but she yanked free. The boy snarled in a rare show of anger. “Then choose how you die!”

She forced herself to stand still. “Tell them I died in the fire.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I do . . . ?”

His voice trailed away as she saw realization light his face. The attack had been no coincidence.

Siha nodded, the anguish too great. “Goodbye, Kay.”

The boy's already pale face became ashen, but he ran his thumb down the bridge of his nose and touched his lips.

_Be careful. Goodbye._

Then he was gone, disappearing in the bushes. A few remaining stragglers streamed past her, but she didn't notice them. She closed her eyes and listened to the crackle of the flames and felt the heat against her back despite the distance they had yet to cover to reach her. She could almost make out faint screaming in the direction of Ehraha's camp. Her already sickened heart withered further. _Make that two camps I've condemned,_ she thought. The Wraith were culling them too.

Her death would be too little, too late, but at least it would be some measure of atonement; it was only fair the person responsible for the destruction to be destroyed in turn. The young woman shuddered, cringing at her cowardice. She was truly weak. Anyone knew death by fire would be a far cleaner fate than shriveling beneath a Wraith's hand. When Siha heard a low whistle from someone alerting their presence, she turned, thinking it was Kay returning for her.

She found Angor instead.

The Wraith stood tall and dark, the hard planes of his face reflecting the forest fire as if part of the blaze itself.

“You,” she said. “ _You._ ”

The Wraith's eyes gleamed in the orange murk as he tipped his head.

“I _saved_ you,” Siha said.

“Yes,” he said, drawing out the 's' in a sibilant hiss. “You did. I've come to give my thanks.”

“Your thanks?” She wanted to vomit.

“Without your invaluable help, finding the solution to cull both your elusive herds would've been far more difficult.”

Siha stared at him, convinced this was a nightmare.

Angor gestured at the forest, expression untroubled despite the approaching flames, his white hair dyed yellow against the light.

“You were correct. Something akin to Ancient cloaking technology has been blocking our scans for some time now. We've always received very strange and intermittent readings from this region, making it difficult to flush the humans out without unduly injuring them in the process. After all, it would be a waste to destroy so much food.”

He was maddeningly calm, his voice never rising or hurrying despite the encroaching destruction around them. “This world lies within my faction's territory. You assumed I was after that Runner, when in fact both your herds were the prize all along.”

Warning bells shrilled inside Siha's head. Slowly she said, “You're not a low-rank, are you.”

The Wraith smiled his awful smile, teeth bared. “No. I am not.”

“How'd you do it?” she heard herself ask, her own voice strange to her ears.

For a moment it looked as if Angor wouldn't reply, scrutiny narrowing. Then he took out the rapid-pistol she'd given him and ran the palm of his off hand over its smooth surface. “I reverse engineered this weapon's functioning targeting sequence to send a signal to my people. It took some time, but within a fortnight we were prepared for a cull. It would've occurred regardless if I lived or died on this planet, though I am appreciative of your warning.” He smiled again, as if remembering something pleasant. “Feeding on that female was added bonus.”

Siha whipped out her rapid-pistol but he was faster. Angor shot her in the chest with his own weapon and she went down, choking against the debilitating sensation of piercing hot needles. She landed on her back, blinking tears of pain from her eyes. It hurt to think, hurt to breathe. Moving was an impossibility. _Awake,_ she thought, still blinking. _Didn't charge it right._

Footsteps crunched through the ferns. The Wraith went to one knee besides her, as if he were a gallant gentleman in the stories her grandda had been fond of telling. Even the way he leaned over her was disarming, his long hair framing his face. She was unable to look away, forced to meet his gaze. She wondered dimly if this was how he perceived her all those weeks ago: he, snared and dying, her, crouching above him. _Kay, come back,_ she wailed. She twitched when Angor slipped a claw at the top of her vest and sliced through the laces, exposing her chest. Hot wind blew against her skin.

An agony of terror coursed through her as Angor's long fingers brushed her torn shirt aside, the claws almost tickling. For a brief moment Siha caught a glimpse of the wide and glistening feeding slit before it was pressed against her. It pulsed like a living thing between her breasts.

“I would be lying,” the Wraith said, peering at her with unreadable, slitted eyes, “if I said I wasn't curious to see what your life tasted like.”

 _Don't do it!_ and _Do it!_ warred within her. _Take my life! Spare me!_ She braced herself in anticipation of the pain.

“But I won't,” Angor said, voice like silk. The horrible weight of his hand retreated but he continued to lean over her. Siha wanted to burst into sobs.

“Good husbandry is necessary for the Wraith to survive this food shortage, and it would be a shame to waste a female of such prime breeding stock. Both your peoples will be moved deeper in our territory, to a planet more suitable for maintenance and culling. You will mingle with the herd already there to help replenish the numbers.”

A different kind of horror chilled her blood. She blinked up at him, throat working. Sensation was returning to her jaw.

Angor stood up and began recharging the rapid-pistol. His technique was perfect. “The more we take, the less we have. The last thing we need are human populations killing each other.” He cocked the hammer and aimed at her. Somewhere in the distance a cull ship whined towards them, growing louder and louder. “What happened on this world will not happen again.”

Siha grunted, her tongue thick and sluggish in her mouth. “Angor, don't—”

A blast enveloped her, and she knew no more.

 

 

.

 

END PART I

 

.

 

…

 

_TBC_

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

.

 

“O Singer of Persephone!  
In the dim meadows desolate  
Dost thou remember Sicily?”  
—Oscar Wilde, “A Villanelle,” _Poems and Essays_

 

.

 

.

 

PART II

 

.

 

The new world was a treeless one.

Siha squinted despite the grayness of the morning, shifting on the rocky ledge she crouched on. Grass swished besides her. Six years had passed since she woke to an unfamiliar sky and the knowledge she would never see her trees again. If she were still in her forest she would've been twenty-seven years old, but seasons passed much slower on this new planet, and Siha knew she would soon lose track of her age all together. Even now she was beginning to forget what rustling leaves sounded like or the sharp aroma of pine resin. To look up and see only leaves instead of open sky.

The young woman pulled her long coat tighter as the wind nipped with petty maliciousness. She weathered the discomfort silently. It was her fault for staying in the high hills, and if the cold was a price for avoiding people, she would pay it. The world was green despite its starkness. There were some bushes but they were stunted things, their exposed roots bleached white. Most of the immediate geography was composed of sloping plains and large, rising knolls that jutted from the ground like a Wraith's spinal ridges. In the distance craggy mountains stretched their stony fingers. Ominous clouds perpetually wreathed their peaks.

The Wraith were clever. The mountain range created a natural and daunting cage, effectively trapping anyone inside. Siha tried crossing them several times, but ill weather and lack of suitable equipment always forced her back. On the last attempt she nearly lost three fingers to frostbite.

Siha peered at the rudimentary civilization nestled in the valley below, her height and distance reducing the houses to matchstick boxes. Roughly ten thousand people lived there, Kay one of them. Siha knew the young man had been employed to maintain the waterwheels that churned in the nearby river, his small frame useful when making repairs. He often smelled of flour and grain when he visited her, and never failed to bring bread made from the grass-harvested grains. Kay wasn't the only who 'visited': every month Darts arrived to collect sacrifices.

 _Tributes._ That was what the people who inhabited the city called them.

Yet the Wraith gave as well. With the same frequency as the cullings they provided materials for housing, food, clothing, simple medicines, and other sundries required to maintain so many on an otherwise barren world. Without aid, Siha knew the city would crumble.

Here, humans depended on the Wraith.

The wind buffeted the young woman as she climbed to her feet. For six years she avoided the city's protection and comfort. How could she after the role she played in the destruction of both camps? Six years had brunt some of the homesickness, but none of the guilt.

Siha heard the raucous scream of a Dart before seeing its needle-nosed shape punch through the clouds. She tensed, watching its trajectory. Over the years she seen the Wraith come and cull any who abandoned the city to live in the hills. Siha didn't know why the Wraith ignored her for as long as they did. She was nothing special. The young woman both yearned and dreaded the moment the Wraith would whisk her away. After the disaster she caused, it was the least she deserved. Yet fear hounded her. Siha often dreamt of Angor's feeding hand pressed on her chest, the smoke still stinging her nose and eyes. She would forget the sound of trees long before she would ever forget the feel of its wet, puckered ridges and the way it pulsed faintly against her.

The Dart landed in the city and disappeared from sight. _Not today,_ she thought. The familiar mixture of sick relief and disappointment hung inside her like a weight. Or a noose.

The shy six-legged deer she'd planned to stalk would've gone deeper in the hills by now. It'd be no use hunting after the loud shrieking. Siha swore under her breath, her stomach choosing to growl in that moment. Her stride lengthened. She left the ledge, heading back to the lee of the knoll in hopes of finding respite from the wind.

A bird startled in the air. Siha's fingers curled for the nonexistent rapid-pistol at her thigh before remembering it'd been taken years ago. She brought her slingshot to bear instead and took aim. She had the perfect shot. Then her arm relaxed. _Go, you stupid bird. Go._ Despite her hunger she allowed it to fly out of range, wishing she could soar as it did. Perhaps then she would fly off the world and keep going until she made it to the space Ring. _I wouldn't stop,_ she thought, straining her eyes to the point of tears. _I'd keep flying until I left this galaxy and the Wraith forever._

A smile came to her. _So, this is how children everywhere dream,_ she thought, soft and sad.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

By nightfall Siha could smell the bread's warm aroma even before Kay rounded the knoll. She lifted her head from the small fire she huddled by, feeling her face lighten.

“Kay.” It always took her off-guard to see how much he'd grown. The last six years had turned him from waifish boy to strong young man. His jawline was clean and firm, his once-wavy blonde hair now tied back in a short queue. Working with waterwheels had broadened his shoulders. She doubted he could wiggle in the machinery like he used to.

“Hi, Siha,” he said, his voice a baritone's tenor. The young man handed her the loaf and sat down. Even without the threat of being culled Siha knew eking a living off the rocks and grass was a strong deterrent. If it wasn't for Kay bringing her food, clothing, and materials when he could, she would've succumbed to exposure and starvation long ago. _I hope you realize you've kept me alive,_ she thought as she accepted the bread from him. It was warm in her hands. She chuckled without meaning to.

“What's funny?” he asked.

“Nothing. I'm just still surprised you don't hate me.”

“I wanted to,” he said. He began tending her fire with hands made graceful after years of practice. “But in the end I couldn't.”

Siha smiled a corpse's smile. “Fhuhu did, even at the end.”

Kay went quiet. Siha knew in the early days both Fhuhu and Ehraha were publicly fed upon to quell the flare ups between the two camps. From what she'd heard from Kay, Fhuhu had screamed her name before he withered completely. The two peoples coexisted after that. Or rather, hid their arguments better. It didn't take long for the rest of the city to accept the forest folk into their fold. After all, everyone shared the same story: the Wraith had rounded them up and brought them here to be 'tended.'

 _Tended. Like game on a preserve, or animals on a farm._ Siha shivered despite the fire and its gleaming embers. She drew her coat to her throat.

“I keep forgetting how bad the wind gets up here,” Kay said. He eyed her threadbare coat. “I'll have to get you another one.”

“Don't bother.”

There was a sigh. “Still not forgiving yourself?”

Siha fell into old habits as she signed in woodspeak, _This—all of this—was my mistake._ _I burned our forest._

“It's been six years, Siha. Most of us, if not all, have accepted our fate. The Wraith finding us was bound to happen eventually. At least we're alive.”

Siha snorted. “For now. When the Wraith allows us to.”

“They give more than they take.”

“But they still take!”

“The Wraith have been taking for thousands of years,” Kay said. There was no anger in his tone, only weariness. It was an old, familiar argument between them. “We're only noticing it now because the forest protected us. We were spoiled.”

“Are those your words, or theirs?” She didn't know why she was being so combative. _Stop it. You're being ungrateful._

“I'm still Kay,” he said, and there was pain in his voice. He put his hand on her arm with all the gentleness of a person soothing a spooked animal. She could feel his body heat through her clothes. “Just because I live in a house doesn't mean I'm any different.”

Siha suddenly had to switch topics. “Were any of our camp taken this time?” she asked. She tore off a piece of bread and ate it. It carried the faint flavor of tussock grass. Her hunger made it delicious. Wordlessly she offered him some of the bread to him. When he refused, she offered water instead. He removed his hand from her arm to accept the wooden cup gratefully and drank.

“A few,” he said when he was finished.

Siha closed her eyes.

“You know they only take the sick and old,” Kay said. He fed the fire more bush roots from her dwindling pile. It accepted the offering greedily.

“And the wounded.” She glanced to him. “If you get hurt, you're reported to the Wraith.”

There were two Wraith who lived in the city among the humans. They acted as stewards, keeping a close watch on the people. Angor had kept his promise: under these Wraiths' careful eye any disputes were instantly quelled, including the initial friction between Fhuhu and Ehraha's peoples. The city's elected council also brought their requests for materials and foodstuffs to these Wraith, along with informing who was growing old, ill, or wounded.

“I know,” he said. “You should come back. The Wraith target outliers.”

“Like me.” It was another an old argument between them. She could almost guess what Kay would say before he said it, but today he didn't seem to want to follow the usual routine.

Siha narrowed her eyes. “Something's different. What is it?”

Kay nodded, as if he unsurprised she would find out. “The Wraith came again.”

“I saw.”

“They said something different this time.”

Siha pretended she was engrossed with tearing at the bread. Steam wafted in her nose. “Oh?”

“They're asking for volunteers to take a retrovirus. If we take it . . . we won't die when they feed.”

“What?” The bread fell from her hands and almost rolled into the fire. “Say that again?”

“The Wraith could feed without killing us.” His voice shook. “We wouldn't have to die!”

Siha picked up the loaf slowly, shaking her head as if dislodging buzzing insects. “H-how is this possible? Who came up with this?”

“The Wraith who came said it was a joint venture between some of their scientists and the Lanteans.”

“The Lanteans? The same ones responsible for waking the Wraith seven years ago?”

“Yes. There's currently a peace treaty between them and the Wraith, and this retrovirus is apparently part of it. Maybe they're trying to atone?” Kay said. Siha pretended she didn't hear the unspoken _You can atone too._

“And? Are you going to do it?” she asked instead.

“I've decided to join the first batch of volunteers.”

Siha stared at him, a different kind of cold gripping her heart. Kay continued: “The Wraith always take. But what if . . . humans can give? We wouldn't have to die. Imagine: the Wraith could feed on us without killing. Siha! This could change _everything_.”

Siha found herself laughing before she could stop herself. At the young man's frown she said, “I'm sorry. It's just—I saved that Wraith's life because I thought it would change everything. And it did. In a horrible, horrible way. But I agree. That retrovirus sounds incredible and wonderful.”

“I'd thought you'd be happier to hear about it.”

“I am, Kay. Really. I'm just a little tired.”

They listened to the fire's hiss-spit as quiet fell between them. Somewhere, a hunting bird _whoo-hoo_ 'd.

“Come back with me,” Kay said suddenly, his voice carrying a note of pleading she hadn't heard before. “Let's take the retrovirus together.”

Siha looked at her only friend as if seeing him for the first time. What would've it been like to Bond with him, she wondered. Would they've created beautiful children together? She had no doubt Kay would've been a good father. She fantasized living long enough to see their children having children, her happiness bittersweet. _On a different world, in a different lifetime, maybe,_ she thought, her heart of hearts clenching.

She swallowed hard and looked over Kay's shoulder towards the city. Night had fallen without either of them noticing, the expanse above white with stars. Lights from the distant houses gleamed like a thousand stationary fireflies. Among them were her people nestled in their Wraith-given comforts under the open, treeless sky. The thought of facing them after what she'd done made her shudder. She'd been gnawing on self-loathing for so long she'd forgotten the taste of anything else.

“Go on without me,” she said quietly. “I'll be right behind you.”

Kay stared at the red embers of the campfire, his face suddenly old. After awhile he said: “I don't know what will happen to me when I'll volunteer. I don't know if they'll take me away or let me stay planet-side.”

_I don't know if I'll be able to keep doing this with you._

Siha suddenly craned her head back to peer at the sky, throat tight. The fire was low enough for her to see millions of stars splashed across the filament.

“Do you think we'll see the Ring tonight?” she asked.

Kay's gaze was a warmth against her skin. She worried he would ignore her unspoken plea and braced herself for a conversation she was unprepared to have.

His voice murmured against her. “Maybe.” He looked up as well, following her lead, voice soft. She was exquisitely glad. “None of the moons will be out for the next week.”

When the fire dwindled to embers they huddled against each for warmth, his arm tight around her shoulder. The rocky knoll loomed over them as a black silhouette against the starlight, protecting them from the worst of the wind. When the three moons were out they bathed the world silver, bright as day. Siha was glad for their absence, if only for tonight. Then she saw it, trekking across the sky far beyond reach: the Ring, nothing more than a tiny white satellite, a single point among millions.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

The next morning Siha woke to find Kay already gone from her tent. As she lounged in the tousled bedroll she thought she remembered a touch to her mouth, as though lips pressed there for a moment.

Days passed. The young woman lived as she always did, hunting and gathering what she could, sleeping when she was tired and eating when her belly growled. The moons returned to the night sky, hiding the Ring from view. As time continued to pass, Kay's absence began carrying a definitiveness the other times didn't. By the end of the second week Siha wondered if she would ever see him again. What if this 'retrovirus' was nothing but a fabrication to draw in willing humans? Already it sounded too good to be true. _Sacrifices. Tributes. Volunteers. All words to describe the same thing._

Yet Kay had been right: _if_ the Wraith didn't have to kill humans when they fed, it changed everything, possibly even the very foundations of the galaxy. The old curiosity stirred inside her like an unwelcome guest. Could there be peace between Wraith and humans at long last? Symbiosis, even? The city itself was living proof of humans depending on Wraith to survive, and visa versa. What could be achieved if neither side died, but prospered? She touched her chest where Angor's feeding slit had once rested, expression inward.

Darts came and went. Kay didn't.

A rare day came where Siha could see the mountains' scouring peaks. It was bright and early, the wind almost gentle. The air smelled of wild grass and fresh dew. _Maybe it's time for one last climb,_ she thought, touching her lips with speculative fingers. The young woman then surveyed her rough dwelling with a finality that'd been building for years. Supplies were needed. Food. Maybe even some medicine. _Everything the city has to offer,_ she thought with an ironic sigh.

Siha was still debating whether or not to go into town when she heard it. She looked up. A Dart was bearing down on her, its engine whining its terrible scream. The young woman didn't attempt to run, relief and terror surging through her.

Then the beam swallowed her whole.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

The young woman awoke in darkness. She remained on her back for several heartbeats, every thought coated in molasses. Wraith. Beam. Culling. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sink into the hard floor. _They finally took me._ When her eyes adjusted to the low light she saw the walls and ceiling were distinctly organic. Intricate tendons formed a column in the centre of the cell while fleshy flaps similar to tanned hides covered much of the walls' pseudo-musculature. If it weren't for the hard floor beneath her, she would've guessed she was inside the organ of some gigantic creature.

The floor hummed with the vibration of internal machinery. After a moment she straightened to her feet, muscles aching as if she'd fallen out of a tree. The crook of her arm twinged. At closer exception she thought she could see a dab of blood. The lighting was too poor for her to tell, and she thought little of it. _No wind,_ she realized. She smiled despite her situation. How long had it been since it didn't scour her face or nip her fingers?

Her smile faded away as she slowly turned in place. She was on a Wraith ship, most likely in space. Her long coat was gone. No other people were with her. A kind of organic webbing barred the cage's entrance. She went to it and touched it. Despite its fleshy texture it was as hard as rock, and no matter how hard she pushed, it didn't budge. Red lights cast fractal patterns on the floor outside the webbing. The young woman peered down the empty corridor, guts churning. _Are you somewhere on this ship, Kay?_ she thought. She hoped so. _At least let me say goodbye this time._

Time passed. Twenty steps brought her from one end of the cage to the other, and soon Siha fell to pacing. She didn't know how long she circled the same forty steps. Thirst and hunger mounted. By the time she heard the heavy tramp of booted feet she was almost grateful.

Three Wraith appeared into view. Two of them were hulking drones, their faces nothing but knobby masks. The third one was clearly in charge. He was the first Wraith she'd seen since Angor, and she was instantly struck by the difference of bearing. She could tell he was young, much younger than the Wraith she'd saved back on the forest. His scored cheeks were more rounded, his build slenderer. His chin was hairless. Maybe it was a combination of all these things, but Siha found herself relaxing. The Wraith's gaze sharpened and he bared sharp teeth. The webbing peeled away. The two drones moved to flank her, one of them grabbing her upper arm. Siha didn't struggle against the bruising grip. It'd be useless. The young Wraith whirled around and began to stride away, his leather coat swishing about his legs. After a not-so-gentle shove, the young woman followed after him.

Siha quickly lost all sense of direction, each corridor identical to the next. Even if she were to break free she would have no idea where to go. Red and yellow lights cast eerie, mottled shadows along the organic walls and floor. Her escort took her briefly through a larger passageway where she caught a glimpse of more drones and long-coated male Wraith. Then she was directed down another corridor, and once again they were alone. The young Wraith at last stopped in front of a set of doors. They reminded Siha of ribbed beetle wings, and when he passed a hand over a sensor, they slithered back with a dry rustle. Siha was pushed inside.

The doors closed, and she found herself alone.

Low fog swirled around her feet as she found her bearings. It was the largest room yet, its ceiling composed of strange rib-like pillars. They converged above to form a fractal pattern with a faintly menacing aesthetic. She moved further inside. There were a series of what appeared to be benches and chairs in one corner. Along another wall was a thick stalk that rose from the ground as if grown from the floor. It flared and cradled a golden screen. When Siha walked closer, she saw a waterfall of figures trickling on the display. She lost herself in the incomprehensible cascade, eyes tracking the flow.

Then she heard a faint creak of leather behind her. Siha whirled around. A Wraith watched her from the centre of the room where none stood before, tall and dark in the gloom. Recognition chilled her blood. His features were exactly the same they'd been six years ago, as if their separation had been mere seconds. Even his hairstyle was unchanged, the salt-white hair spilling over his shoulders in thick sheaves with the rest tied back. His leather uniform was more ornate than the one on the forest, the coat ending at his shoes. He made as much noise as an owl's wingbeat as he took a step forward. Her prey instincts trilled. _Run! Run run run!_ But where could she run to? The young woman waited, body flushed both hot and cold.

“Hello, Siha,” the Wraith said. Her name sounded like it belonged to a stranger in the alien, multilayered voice. _That isn't me,_ she resisted. _That's a different Siha, another one who helped you burn the forest. Not me. Not me._

“Wraith,” she said.

He tipped his head. “We both know you call me something different. What was it again?”

Siha stared at him, for a moment debating not responding. Although he made no threatening move towards her, the young woman couldn't ignore the way the skin over her chest prickled.

“Angor,” she conceded, suddenly ashamed. Siha hardened her voice to add, “To my people it means suffocation, or distress.”

The Wraith bared his teeth in what she took for a smile. “Creative.”

When he said nothing else, she dared to ask, “Why am I here?”

Siha forced herself not to retreat when Angor took another step closer, halving the distance between them. “We tolerated your living arrangements because we knew your consort visited you often. But since you've yet to produce a child, you will serve another use.”

Consort? Then Siha frowned, her stomach tightening. _'Visited'?_ “He said he volunteered for your retrovirus,” she said slowly. “Where is he now?”

The Wraith was quiet for a moment, regarding her with unreadable yellow eyes. “I am afraid,” he said, “he had a reaction to the drug. It is a rare occurrence, but it does happen among those who receive it. He fell into a coma and never awoke.” There was a brief hesitation, like a hunting swallow pausing in midair. “You have my apologies.”

 _Kay._ A terrible weightlessness came to her. _Oh, Kay, not you._

“You, however, did not have a reaction.”

Siha's head snapped up. “What?”

“We find it much easier to administer the retrovirus when kine are unconscious.”

“Wh-when?”

“After you were rematerialized from the Dart's pattern buffer.”

The blood drained from her face in a cold rush. “But I didn't volunteer!”

“Nonetheless,” Angor said, lifting his mustachioed chin with a sibilant hiss, “you received it. It is becoming standard procedure to inoculate our herds. In the coming months, every human in our territory will have received the treatment.”

He took another step. She'd forgotten how tall he was. “After all, you are sustenance,” he said.

Siha's lips pulled back from her teeth in a snarl. “I am more than that,” she said. “And if Kay and I hadn't killed those humans back then, you would've been dead by now. I wish I could go back. Then I would let that girl kill y—”

The Wraith was fast, faster than she remembered. She was shoved back. Stars burst behind her eyes as her head banged against the wall. An arm kept her pinned as a _riiip_ of tearing fabric filled the air. She tore at the offending arm as if demented, panicking. Her efforts were nothing. He slammed his feeding hand on her chest and Siha's cry of _No!_ turned to a scream of agony as white-hot pain seared her like acid. It was an agony without end. When the pain grew too great she writhed in silent torment, unable to escape the hand or its hold, trapped between the Wraith and the wall. Perhaps worse than the pain was the terrible _pulling_ sensation, like someone drinking water from a bottle in big, long draws. She could feel her life being inexorably consumed, and the more taken, the more she felt some intangible part weaken.

_Kay. Kay, I'm so sorry._

As suddenly as the pain started, it stopped. Siha blinked, panting, experiencing the greatest weariness she'd ever known. Even though she hadn't aged a day, every muscle felt as heavy as stone, aching as if she'd run the entire breadth of the valley. She would've slid to the floor had it not been for the arm holding her in place.

“I would not,” the Wraith said, breathless in a way she'd never heard him before, pupils swollen, “advise that again.”

She glared at him, hating. Something hot ran down her cheeks. “I saved you.”

“I saved you as well,” Angor said. He leaned away but kept a restraining hand on her shoulder, as unmovable as a mountain. His feeding hand was angled out of sight. “You would be dead now if it not for the retrovirus.”

“I didn't ask for it.”

“As I said, if you will not breed, you will serve as substance.”

“I would rather die than serve you,” she said, throat raw.

The Wraith studied her for a long, thoughtful moment, eyes narrowing. “We discovered a human administered the retrovirus may be fed upon ten times in session before reaching destruction. Is that what you want?”

Undergo _that_ nine more times in a row? The wall dug into her spine and shoulders as she pressed into it, wishing it could swallow her whole. The Wraith stepped back, releasing her. Her legs trembled but held, barely. She didn't know how she still stood.

“Of course, I will not allow it,” Angor said. “Despite the benefits of the retrovirus, it is still poor husbandry to kill humans needlessly.”

“Why,” she said. She wanted to scream and punch. The very thought of struggling brought a fresh wave of exhaustion. “With all the humans to choose from, why me?”

There was a delicate shrug. The yellow gaze never left hers. “We have made arrangements in the past that have served both of us well. I see no reason we cannot continue this.”

“The last time I made an 'arrangement' with you, my people were culled and brought to an unfamiliar world,” Siha said. Her voice shook. “Now my friend is dead. I'm done collaborating with you, or any Wraith.”

The faint hesitation returned. “I apologize again for your consort.”

Siha's jaw clenched. She looked away.

“Yet he was correct,” Angor said. “A recent war has pushed the Wraith to the edge of famine. If all humans die, so do my kind. If we are to survive, we will need to change our feeding strategy. Now the same human may sustain us for many, many years. Why not form a mutually beneficial partnership? Many have chosen to accept the benefits we offer, whether they are worshipper or newly inoculated with the retrovirus.”

Siha glared at him.

“You will be kept aboard for the duration of your service. Whether in a cell or in comfort will be entirely up to you.”

“I don't care,” she said.

Her eyes flinched shut when he stepped closer.

His cool tone washed over her as he said, “Perhaps several days trussed in a cell will change your mind. If you wish to be treated like any other animal, then so be it.”

When Siha dared to reopen her eyes, she found herself alone. He'd left like a shadow, softly and without notice. The young woman stayed pressed against the wall, legs like rubber. There was a deep ache in her chest where none had been before. The tang of blood filled her nose. She looked down. A feed-mark glistened there, bright red and oozing, throbbing whenever she shifted. Pucker marks encircled it. She didn't know how long she stared at it. This wasn't her body. Kay couldn't be dead.This wasn't happening. Fatigue pulled her eyelids closed. Even the act of covering her bareness was exhausting.

The blood had become tacky by the time the organic door slithered open. Two drones appeared. The young woman couldn't tell if they were the same ones from before or replacements, and when they took her, she didn't struggle. Siha was dragged more than led out of the room. She didn't pay attention to which corridor she was brought or which turn they took. When they pushed her back-first into a shallow niche, she was almost glad to stop walking. One of the drones secured her hands above her head with an organic cord. Then they were gone, the heavy _tramp tramp_ of their boots fading away.

 

…

 

_TBC_

 

 


	5. V

.

 

“Peel off the napkin  
O my enemy.  
Do I terrify?--  
  
And I a smiling woman.  
I am only thirty.  
And like the cat I have nine times to die.”  
―Sylvia Plath, “Lady Lazarus,” _Ariel_

 

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.

 

.s.

 

.

 

Time was meaningless on the sunless, nightless Wraith ship. Siha felt neither hunger nor thirst while suspended in the niche, only a disorienting sense of warmth. It was as if she were held inside a dream. There was no pressing need to relieve herself despite the hours— _days?—_ she was kept in the wall. Her hands had long since gone numb. Similar holdings lined the entire corridor, their shapes reminiscent of the graves her camp used to dig. Most were covered in cobwebs, the cords within slack and desiccated. All were empty. Siha didn't know how many times she counted them.

Time passed. She slept. Woke. Slept again. The ship's noises murmured all around her, its internal machinery a low, constant thrum. At times she thought she heard voices. Though she peered as far as her bindings would allow, she never caught a glimpse of another living creature, Wraith or human. Despite her _Hello_ 's and _Anybody there_ 's, there was never an answer. After awhile, she stopped trying all together.

Slept. Woke. Counted. Drifted. Slept.

When counting cracks grew useless, Siha closed her eyes and pretended she was back on the windswept knoll. Yes. She could feel the the wind tousling her hair and scouring her cheeks. Grass rustled all about her. _Yes._ She leaned into the memory like a child leaning into a touch, brows scrunching with effort. The cold air smelled clean and fresh. There'd be rain soon. On it rode the faintest aroma of baking bread. The day turned into night, and she saw Kay handing her a loaf with a smile. She jolted out of the daydream.

“Kay,” she whispered, the memory a knife to her heart. She tried to think of another location, this time back in the forest. But six years had dulled much of her recollection, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall what pine resin smelled like. What was it to experience dappled sunlight on her upturned face again? She turned around in her mind's eye. There was the blonde-haired boy, hunting besides her—

Siha shook herself and glared at the row of grave-niches until the image faded. _Think of something else,_ she thought. Anything would be better. She tried to remember when she was little instead, happy and playing by her grandda's feet. Her stomach curdled. _Grandda_. A mirthless smile came to her. How would he react if he saw her now?

 _Oh grandda, I've been such a fool._ She tried to imagine what he would say, then faltered. In her mind's eye he spoke as if from too great a distance, voice a low burr. She tried picturing his face instead, but the best she could make out was a watery blur. The more she thought, the more she realized she couldn't remember much of the man who reared her. What did he smell like? How did he laugh? After much effort, the only thing she could recall were his great, veiny hands. It was a useless, precious detail. Siha leaned back and tried not to cry.

“Hello again, Siha.”

The young woman snapped straight. She found Angor as if he'd been standing there the whole time, studying her with a predator's attention. The spiraling tattoo around his left eye and cheek was very dark against his skin. _Why couldn't he be hideous?_ she thought bitterly, unable to help notice the severe regality of his alien features, handsome in all the ways she was not.

The Wraith lifted his mustachioed chin. “Have you reconsidered?”

“Let me see Kay.” Her voice was scratchy from days of disuse. She pretended she was back in the forest, not in a feeding trough with numb hands above her head. “Before I agree to anything, I need to see him.”

Angor didn't move, quiet.

Suddenly a thought came to her. She tried to keep the despair out of her voice. “Don't tell me you've already . . .”

“He is still aboard.”

“Oh.” Relief and sorrow flooded through her. She took a moment to collect herself. “May I, then?”

Watching the Wraith incline his head was like watching a mountain take a bow.

Siha licked dried lips, heart quickening. “And if you'd let me bury him—”

“No.” He shook his head once. “That, I cannot allow. My clevermen—scientists—will want to study his body to understand his cause of death so it may be avoided in the future. I will, however,” he said, inclining his head again, “permit you to see him. Then we will discuss.”

Siha nodded, throat tight. The Wraith stepped up to her and the young woman tensed, turning her head away. Instead of ripping clothing he reached up and unbound her hands. His dry, cobweb smell filled her nose. If she leaned forward they would be pressed together hip-to-chest. A shiver ran through her as she remembered the horrible feeding experience the last time they'd been this close.

The bindings fell away. Angor retreated a step, leather creaking. He gestured with his off hand down the corridor. “Follow me.”

Siha was surprised her legs even worked. She did as commanded, though not before a traitorous voice whispered _Run._ It'd be useless, not to mention idiotic. The strange warmth she felt in the niche began to fade as they walked. Her hands started tingling and soon she was clenching them against the painful pins-and-needles sensation. The Wraith led her away from the feeding corridor and back along more trafficked ones. Siha kept close behind. Other Wraith passed them, each acknowledging Angor to some degree. Wraith dressed in shorter coats and had more elaborate hairstyles kept out of his way more than those dressed similarly to him. Neither kind of male paid her much mind. Glances cast her way were seldom and fleeting.

Angor led her down a different hallway. All the Wraith here wore the shorter, plainer clothing. Angor returned a few of their respectful nods, though his were far shallower. Old embarrassment bloomed inside the young woman. To think she'd once called him a low-rank.

Her guide eventually stopped in front of a series of doors. A slender new Wraith appeared as if he'd been expecting Angor. Though he wore the short coat and pants of the other Wraith in this section of the ship, his hair was bound in a thick, long tail, simple in comparison to the others. He stopped by Angor's side almost casually, shorter by several inches. For a moment neither moved. Then the newcomer handed Angor a small device. All of this was done without either Wraith speaking, yet Siha sensed they'd communicated nonetheless. The newcomer bowed and left, leaving her and Angor in the small hallway.

The Wraith waved a hand over a sensor grown into the wall. The doors slithered back. Siha took a deep breath, then entered. It was dim, save one pale beam in the centre of the room. Rows of screens and consoles lined the corners, each cradling a yellow-green display of cascading information. In the centre of the room were several empty benches. They were radially spaced, as if forming the petals of a ominous flower, the overhead beam highlighting the one occupant. Siha moved closer to it, heart a wet knot.

Kay appeared a touch away from waking, expression peaceful. A dark, iridescent cloth covered him from sternum to toe. The rest of his nakedness was pale and washed out in the overhead light, and when she reached his side, she found she couldn't smell the usual scent of flour. She leaned in. He was odorless. After a moment's hesitation she ran her fingers through his blonde hair, unable to recall the last time she'd done that. _If only you hadn't volunteered,_ she thought. The irony wasn't lost on her. _I should be the one dead and you, alive._ Misery welled. She bowed her head and pressed her forehead to his cold one.

_The Wraith always take. But what if . . . humans can give?_

Siha jerked away as if burned. Kay's voice followed her, as if whispering behind her ear. _We wouldn't have to die. Imagine: the Wraith could feed on us without killing._

Siha could almost hear the hiss-spit of the fire they'd sat near. He'd been so close to her that night.

_This could change everything._

A fledgling idea began to take root. Back then she'd stood over a dying Wraith instead of dead young man, but her pulse began to quicken all the same. She carded her fingers through her friend's hair for the final time.

“I'll be right behind you,” she murmured. Then she turned. Angor stood several feet away, long hair dyed blue in the low gloom.

“What will you do when you're done with him?” she asked. Her voice was level.

“That is my cleverman's business. Dispose of him, I assume.”

“Let me bury him on the planet instead.”

Angor's upper lip twitched, as if it wanted to curl. “That will take time and resources.”

“Kay told me about you in the first place. If weren't for him, you would've died in the forest,” Siha said, raising her chin. “If anything, you owe him more than you owe me.”

The Wraith hissed and took a heavy, deliberate step forward. Siha remained inert despite her pounding heart.

“This is a way humans grieve,” she said. “Burying makes us feel we've put the dead to rest.”

“Why would I care to know this?” Despite the Wraith's cool tone, he was watching her carefully.

“Because if any 'arrangement' between us will ever work,” Siha said, steeling herself, “you will need to start seeing humans as equals.”

Angor went still. “Wraith and human.” His expression was faintly cool. “Equals.”

_Kay, give me strength._

“Those are my terms: acknowledge I am more than just food to hoard and I will serve you. Otherwise the retrovirus will never save the human race.”

“Is that so.” The yellow gaze slowly tracked her form. “You live and breathe because of it, as do hundreds of humans.”

“Not if you keep us stored like meat aboard your ships.”

“Why not? Storing humans have served us in the past.”

Frustration burned like a coal inside her. The young woman tried not to let it show as she tried a different tactic. “You said the same human can now feed you many times over. But what if they began to taste like ash?”

Siha took a step forward. She tried to ignore the way the Wraith's pupils thinned. “You give me the choice between spending the rest of my days in a cell or in a room. What's the difference if I'll never feel soil again? Breathe fresh air?”

She dared another step. She could touch his chest if she reached. His gaze was as unreadable and alien as the first time they spoke alone by the river, emoting nothing. It took all her strength not to break contact. “The point I'm trying to make is our wellbeing is in your good interests. Humans can't just spend the rest of their lives in a cell. We need freedom to live. Interact. Thrive. Grieve, if we must.” Grasping, she said, “Don't Wraith need the same things?”

Angor growled lowly. It was so soft a sound she would've missed it if she had been a hair further away.

“That would take time, ships, and energy to cycle through inoculated humans,” he said. “A system would have to be put into place.”

“It wouldn't be a burden when Wraith start seeing humans as equals.”

“Equality,” he said, voice like graveled silk, “is not a leap many Wraith are prepared, or willing, to take. Even now there are factions resistant to the idea of the retrovirus.”

“Then why?” She wanted to tear out her hair. “Why give me a choice at all? Why not just lock me up and take like I'm any other human?”

Siha stumbled back as the Wraith closed the distance between them.

“Because I have no use clinging to old ways that no longer serve me,” Angor said with an expression that was all teeth. “And if the retrovirus' price is knowing the kine we feed upon, then so be it.”

His hair slithered over the leather as he drew himself up, snarl softening. “I cannot promise equality. I may've developed the very rare perspective of knowing a human, but most of my kind have not. Even speaking to you in this manner is uncommon. That said,” he added slowly, “I will take what you said under consideration.”

Siha looked away. _I'm helping my people,_ she thought. _I'm helping my people._

“I will allow you to bury your consort's body if you choose to abide by my rules and serve. Do you accept this?”

Siha nodded, throat too tight to speak, hating the way it felt she was signing away her soul. Something akin to a smile passed over Angor's features, but it was too filled with teeth to be considered friendly, and gone before it could truly form. He gestured with his off hand to follow him. As she was led out of the lab, she looked behind her and thought, _Kay? Kay, you there?_

But the ghostly voice, so strong before, was nothing but a faded echo.

Siha followed Angor along the corridors, and once again led to a new chamber. The moment she crossed the threshold she saw it was the most spacious room she'd yet seen, large enough to fit many comfortably. The air within was cool and smelled faintly of mist. Blue and yellow fractal patterns splayed across the floor. There were chairs and a table along one tendonious wall, each appearing grown from the floor itself. A semblance of a game board rested on another table. The pieces were scattered as if in mid-play, the pieces and set up unfamiliar. Far more interesting than the game was the far wall. It was composed of a large window overlooking the vastness of space. Thousands of stars gleamed in the void. Siha moved closer to it, drawn to semblance of the night sky and the memory of happier times.

She then noticed two rooms on either side of the window. Only one had a set of intricately-wrought organic doors. It had to be Angor's private chamber. Curiosity stirred before she could stamp it out. Did Wraith sleep as humans did?

“This will be yours,” Angor said, drawing her from her thoughts. He gestured at the doorless room. “To eat, sleep, bathe, relieve yourself when you must.”

Siha stepped inside. It was about the size of a cell, its dim blue lighting matching the rest of the ship. An additional section was tucked in the back. Two chairs crowded around a centre table. Along the right wall was another window, and though it was nowhere near as large as the other one, Siha was instantly glad for it. She looked left and spied what was clearly a sleeping area. It grew out from the wall to form a strange, gourd-like bed. _A nest,_ she thought suddenly.

The young woman turned and found the Wraith standing in the entrance, still as stone. She couldn't help but remember a similar situation six years ago. _I can't ask to be let out of the cave now,_ Siha thought, almost hearing the bubbling river. The same trapped, claustrophobic sensation prickled her arms.

“We worked together for both our benefits, once,” the Wraith said. His expression was hidden.

She said nothing, thinking of Kay.

He smiled a Wraith-smile at her, too quick to truly notice yet unsettling all the same. “Rest for now. I will call upon you soon enough.”

Then he walked out of sight. Siha strained her ears. There was the faint slither of doors opening and closing, then nothing. She waited for several more heartbeats, but heard nothing besides the hum of the ship. Alone. Siha closed stinging eyes and counted to twenty. _You're okay. You're okay._

When she reopened her eyes she moved closer to the nest. Touching the bedding was like petting bird down. Exhaustion swamped her in an instant as all the fear, anxiety, and sorrow pressed around her like an iron shroud. With the slowness of an elderly woman Siha took off her shoes, crawled into the bedding, and listened to the vibration of the Hiveship's internal machinery for as long as she remained awake.

 

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.s.

 

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Waking in the nest was like emerging from warm waters. Siha didn't move for several counts, relishing the rare comfort of feeling rested. Her toes curled as she enjoyed a full-body stretch, every muscle relaxed.

_You're on a Hiveship. Kay is dead. Your people are trapped._

Siha sat up. Was it morning? Evening? There was no blue sky outside the little window, no sun to tell the hour. Was she alone? Siha tried to listen for noises outside her room, but could discern nothing. If Angor was here, she couldn't tell. She glanced over at the entrance and was pleasantly surprised to find the nest was placed in an angle hidden away from prying eyes.

Then she noticed a bowl of fruit resting on the table. She quickly looked around. There was no one else with her. She tried to ignore the shudder along her spine as she pulled herself from the nest. She wobbled, stomach rumbling. Siha touched her belly in surprise, realizing it was first time she felt hungry since leaving the feeding niche. Other pressures were making themselves known as well and she hurried to the small alcove adjacent to her room. A small, pseudo-muscled basin of water stood in the centre. Another, smaller basin was near. After relieving herself in it and flushing, Siha slid out of her clothes and dipped into the basin's steaming water. She used a porous sponge to scrub herself and the old, scabbing feed-mark on her chest raw, then used a foamy lather to wash her hair. It smelt faintly of pond algae.

After she dried off, she saw some folded clothes in a compartment by the wall. She picked up the shirt. It was the colour of old cream, soft and scentless. The same went for the pants and undergarments. For a moment she debated ignoring them and returning to her old, threadbare clothes. _You're naked and shivering,_ a little voice said. _Make up your mind._

The new clothes fit as if they'd been made specifically for her, their softness surprising. When she was finished she turned in place and examined herself. Then she noticed the shirt's neckline dipped. There was just enough room for a hand to press unencumbered above her breasts.

She froze.

Siha was halfway tearing the shirt off when the little voice shouted, _No!_ The young woman froze again. The little voice continued, angry. _No. Are you doing this or aren't you? Do you want to make Kay's sacrifice go to waste? You need to do this,_ the little voice said.

Slowly, painfully, Siha rolled the shirt back down. She flattened the wrinkles with trembling hands, feeling more exposed than if she wore nothing at all.

_Equality will happen when Wraith learn humans can give. Not before._

Siha tried to cling to the little voice's confidence, unable to ignore the sinking feeling both of their sacrifices would be for nothing.

 

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.s.

 

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Siha was staring out the window when she heard the doors slither open. She tensed. After a moment the doors slithered shut, but not before she caught a rumbling chuckle. Siha's stomach dropped. That wasn't Angor's timbre. Then came an answering grunt and the young woman relaxed a margin. At least she recognized him.

Chairs scraped against the floor, then creaked as bodies settled against them. Siha left the window and crouched by her room's entrance. There was a long moment filled with faint _tic tic_ sounds, like someone placing polished stones on glass. After a certain point the _tic_ ing continued in sporadic bursts. Aside from a few rumbles and low hisses, there was no spoken dialogue. For a long moment Siha debated between peeking and remaining hidden, torn between curiosity and fear. Her chest prickled with the memory of terrible pain. As time went on and no hurt befell her, the curiosity grew too strong.

The young woman peered around the organic frame of her room with hunting stealth. Two Wraith sat at the game board. One was Angor. His hair was in its customary simplicity, his bangs tied up and back in its herringbone braid while the rest fell over his shoulders. His partner was the same Wraith who'd met him outside the lab, his own hair bound in a single, long tail. Both were concentrating on the game before them, their claws handling the pieces deftly. Siha blinked. It was one thing to know Wraith played games, but it was another thing to witness it. Luuka and Kay had often played after long patrols. Siha had been content to watch, just as she was content to watch now—

Angor's yellow gaze slid to hers.

Siha whipped back in her room, face cold. How had he known? With nowhere to run and less place to hide, she was torn between huddling or standing. In the end she stood tall by the window, chin raised. But after a moment of waiting, neither Wraith appeared. The _tic_ ing continued. Siha relaxed in the same fashion as melting glaciers, and by the time the _tic_ ing stopped, the chairs scraped back, and the door slithered open and closed, her heartbeat had returned to normal. At first she thought both had gone. Then a chair creaked.

“Come here, Siha.”

She took a deep breath. Held it. Released it. She walked out of the room and found Angor lounging in the same chair he'd been playing in. It made her pause to see him in so mundane a position.

“Closer,” he said.

Siha did as instructed, prey instincts wailing. She glanced at the board. It was cleared.

“Thank you,” she said, not knowing what else to say. “For the food.”

The Wraith rose. “Likewise.”

When he reached for her, it took every ounce of her willpower not to run. The Wraith was already hissing when he pressed the feeding slit to her chest, teeth bared. She managed one thought of _Kay_ before the burning pain seared through her. She was a breath away from screaming when it gentled. No, not gentled. Siha stared in surprise at the Wraith in front of her. His face was tense, eyes slitted. The pain was still there, but muted somehow. Then the awful _pulling_ started. She tried to flinch away, every part of her revolting. Angor snarled. The claws set deeper. Tears collected at the corners of her eyes as he drew from her lifespring in big, long tugs. It was worse than any pain, worse than any hurt. The Wraith's face relaxed. He hissed with pleasure, then sighed. When he finally released her she collapsed to the floor, legs like jelly.

Siha struggled to get up. Though her skin was unshriveled and her body youthful, her soul felt inexorably used. It hung like a dirty, tattered blanket inside her. She wanted to take it off and leave it somewhere and never see it again. With the last shreds of dignity she managed to drag herself into a chair and sit straight. Angor folded into the chair across from her, long leather coat arranged gracefully around him, cool and poised. The empty game board rested between them.

 _It didn't work,_ she thought, anguished. _The Wraith still took. I didn't give, not like Kay envisioned._

Her breath caught as the Wraith suddenly leaned towards her.

“No!” Siha tried to jump out of reach but only managed to twitch, spent beyond all measure. His large palm fitted right over her bleeding feed-mark, claw tips ghosting her neck.

A rush of warmth filled her. For a brief moment her soul felt less tattered, as if someone was filling in the wrinkles. A margin of strength returned. Then as quickly as it begun it stopped, the hand pulling back. Angor returned to his chair.

Siha looked down. Both old and new feed-marks were gone.

“What did you do?” she asked. She touched her chest to be sure it wasn't an illusion.

“I merely returned a little back to you,” he said. “That is all.”

“You can do that?”

He gazed at her from across the game board, then said carefully, “It is called the Gift of Life. In most cases it is reserved for devote worshippers and for Wraith we call brothers.” His head tipped slightly. “Yet you are no worshipper, nor reared in a worshipper colony. Before the retrovirus, culled humans were merely fed upon. This is . . . unprecedented.”

“Th-thank you.”

His expression remained placid.

 _Kay. If only you knew Wraith could give too,_ she thought, still awed with wonder. Though she wasn't planning on heavy physical activity in the near future, she no longer felt as faint. Siha was suddenly filled with the urge to show her gratitude, even in a small gesture.

“Your name,” she said. “I know it isn't Angor. Will you tell me?”

The Wraith studied her, unreadable. There were several heartbeats of silence. Siha became was convinced he wasn't going to tell her.

His voice was a low growl when he said, “You may call me Stillness.”

Siha blinked. “'Stillness'?”

His silence became pointed. She stumbled to say, “No offense meant. I—I'm caught off-guard.”

“What did you expect instead?” His tone was very smooth.

She tried to keep calm. “I don't know. I've never learned a Wraith's name before.”

“'Stillness' is only a rough approximation,” the Wraith said. “My kind recognize each other by our mental 'voice,' if you will, as we are a telepathic race.”

 _That explains why I never hear them talking out loud,_ she thought. The young woman remembered all those times she'd seen him hunting and never moving a muscle. Maybe 'mental voices' bled into personality as well, shaping the Wraith in question in more ways than one. She wondered if that was true, but kept the hypothesis to herself.

“Human names carry meanings,” she offered, “though they're not directly linked to the individual. My grandda could've named me anything. In the end he called me after his grandmother.”

“Ah,” the Wraith said, mouth thinning in faint distaste. “Then there are other 'Siha's' among your people.”

A bitter smile came to her. “It wasn't used when I was growing up. I doubt it'll ever be again.” Quickly, before the conversation could descend that track, she asked, “That other Wraith. Who was he?”

“He is the cleverman in charge of overseeing the reason behind your consort's death, the Master of Sciences Biological.” His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were mentioning an academic point.

Siha kept her grief locked tight in a little box. “And his name?” she dared.

Stillness tilted his head like a bird searching for worms. “You ask many questions.”

“I'm curious.”

“I have learned the Lanteans have a saying involving cats and curiosity,” he said. Though the Wraith's expression remained smooth, she had the impression he was smiling his teeth at her. “It never goes well for the cat.”

“Please?”

His pupils thinned. “Not that it matters,” Stillness said, looking a point over her shoulder, “but it's Longsight.”

 _Longsight,_ she thought. Another unexpected name.

“Any more questions?” He drew out the 's _'_ with a sibilant hiss.

 _Do you consider him a 'brother'?_ Siha wanted to ask, but knew better. Already her mind was reeling with how much she'd learned in the short amount of time. She'd seen Wraith play games in camaraderie. They had telepathic names. _And they can give back,_ she thought, touching her chest again.

“Not at the moment,” Siha said, choosing her words one does game tiles. The young woman shifted in her seat, the post-feeding fatigue and soreness making her yearn for the bed. She forced herself to sit tall. “But one day I would like to learn more. About the Wraith. About you.”

Stillness didn't respond, neither baring teeth nor smiling. The sharp planes of his face reflected the blueness of the room. Then he rose. Watching him rise to his feet was like watching a cat uncoil from a crouch. Siha tensed in spite herself. As he it became clear he was heading towards the door, she said, “Wait! Was it you who give me the fruit?”

“No. I had a human attendant bring it.”

 _A worshipper?_ she thought. “May I request something more substantial? Meat, perhaps? Or—” _bread,_ she was going to say. The word caught in her throat.

“You may ask yourself next shift,” Stillness said. “Then perhaps you may see how humans serve us in other ways.”

Siha watched him reach the door, the curiosity she'd buried six years ago beating like a living thing next to her heart. She still hadn't moved from her chair, a part of her still ravaged and weak. Another seemed inexplicably stronger.

“Why me?” she asked. She didn't raise her voice. He paused nonetheless, hand hovering above the door's sensor. His hair fell over his shoulders like an immaculate white sheet, smooth compared to her unkempt ponytail. “You could have any other human. I know you said we've made arrangements in the past, but that can't be the only reason you've chosen me.”

For a brief moment it looked as if he would reply, shoulders tightening. But then the Wraith's hand swept lazily over the sensor and he was gone.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

Siha woke to a light tap and found a woman bending over her.

“Good. You're awake,” the stranger said, retreating a step.

Siha sat up slowly, wary. A quick glance showed the other's hands were weaponless and open. Her eyes matched the cool brown of her hair as it hung in a side coil. The style was unfamiliar to Siha, dispelling the immediate instinct the woman was a person from camp sent to kill her. _A worshipper._ Instinctive revulsion rose in the young woman. She tamped it down. It'd do her no good to show prejudice now.

“I am Meeràn. The Lord has instructed me to feed you. Change clothes and relieve yourself and I'll wait for you in the main chamber.” She then left in Wraith-fashion, her footfalls nearly soundless. She seemed ageless, older than Siha yet not. Even her voice had a fluidity that made her age difficult to place. _I must be out of practice dealing with my own kind,_ Siha thought. Excluding Kay, it was the first person to speak to her since arriving to the new world. Or another woman, for that matter.

Siha did as she was told. After relieving herself and putting on fresh clothing, she found the woman standing by the game board. Siha wondered at the irony. Everything somehow involved the game.

“I'm Siha.”

“Yes, I know who you are,” Meeràn said. The woman smiled, quick and formless. _A Wraith-smile,_ Siha thought suddenly. “There are very few of us who are unfamiliar with your name here.”

“Really? Why?” Siha asked.

“A human who is not an attendant living in a Wraith Commander's quarters? That is certainty reason for talk,” Meeràn said. “Come. I'm sure you're hungry.”

“Yes, a little.”

The woman swiped her hand over the sensor and led Siha out into the dim corridor. The young woman looked about, blinking. It felt like she'd been in the quarters for weeks. The worshipper led her through cobweb-covered hallways, her pace brisk and efficient. They stayed away from the heavily-trafficked corridors, sticking to the smaller passages scientist-Wraith frequented. The passing Wraith ignored the two silent women. As they walked Siha glanced at the other askance. Though they wore similar clothing, she couldn't help notice their difference in bearing. One was clearly in their element while the other . . . _Is learning,_ Siha thought. _This is my chance to find out how to help my people._

Were they her people anymore? Fhuhu was dead. Others throughout the six years were dead. Now Kay was gone. Siha chewed on the inside of her cheek. No. This went beyond the camp. This was for all humans everywhere receiving the retrovirus and the generations to come.

“I recognize that look. You seem you're making a decision,” the woman said.

“Am I that obvious?” Siha asked, surprised. Meeràn hadn't looked at her once.

As if reading her thoughts, the worshipper said, “You become very good at reading body language aboard the Hive. Though you're not Wraith, it is my job to interpret moods. It may save a life to know when to be needed and when to stay out of the way.”

They moved into a secluded passageway. Meeràn swiped her hand over a sensor and the door slithered back, revealing a brightly lit room. Siha blinked as she was ushered in. After being in dimness for so long, she'd almost forgotten what brightness felt like. When her eyes adjusted, she saw a long table in the centre of the room. A plate of different foods rested there. Meeràn picked up what appeared to be a halved apple filled with a green paste and handed it to Siha. She sniffed it. Its hot aroma prickled her nose. The young woman bit anyway, teeth crunching through the outer skin. An explosion of flavor lit up her mouth and she coughed.

“'S good,” Siha wheezed.

A real smile came to Meeràn as she offered a different morsel. Siha tried and ate several more tidbits before her stomach stretched comfortably. Even the water lacked the metallic tang she was accustomed to. She peered around. Though they were alone, the young woman sensed it was a place of meeting. The space carried a clean emptiness that came from maintenance rather than abandonment, and though there were no windows, it still had a pleasant openness about it. It smelled faintly of spices and freshly laundered clothing. Siha's shoulders relaxed. She stood straighter. Meeràn mirrored her stance, expression at once closed and open like a Wraith's polite veneer.

Siha stopped, took a breath, and raised her chin. “I want to learn from you.”

Meeràn tipped her head, Wraith-like. Her eyebrows rose. “To become an attendant?”

“No. Not like that. No offense.”

The woman smiled without smiling. “None taken.”

“I want to know if you think it's possible for humans and Wraith to form a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Meeràn pursed her lips. “Throughout history there's been instances where human worlds served the Wraith for some benefit or another. Is that what you mean?”

Siha shook her head. “No. No, I mean—people like me. People who have the retrovirus. People who can give to the Wraith and not die. Without serving as worshippers, is it possible for us to form a balance?”

“To my knowledge, only those who offered themselves in service have been spared. Though worshipper worlds have been asked to increase the rate of tributes in the last few years, we still dedicate every moment of our lives to our Lords and Queen. But for any human to form a partnership . . . that is beyond my experience,” Meeràn said. There was nothing in her voice. Neither encouraging nor discouraging, her remoteness reminded Siha of Stillness.

“I've seen it done,” Siha said, trying to ignore the instinctive urge to dislike the worshipper. Wraith sympathizers were often killed on sight among the worlds. Their heads often fetched kingly rewards. Siha noticed the other kept the table between them, as if in defense. Siha smiled to herself. _We're both traitors,_ she thought. _But we can still do good._ “Down on that planet I saw humans depend on Wraith for food, shelter, medicine. Each needed the other. Do you think balance could be repeated on a bigger scale?”

“Perhaps.” Meeràn's gaze dipped. “Possibly. But it's never been done before. There has always been an imbalance between the two races. Even attendants such as myself are often seen as useful pets. Junior clevermen, possibly. But rarely anything else.”

Siha fought a shudder. That was not what she wanted at all. She picked up a water cup and swirled the water within. The metal was cool against her skin, a welcome change from the Hiveship's organicity. She stopped swirling the cup and her distorted reflection peered up at her.

“Would it be possible to circulate through humans on the ships?” Siha asked, eyes still watching the water. “Have a human like me stay aboard for a season or two, then return planet-side?”

Meeràn was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “It would have to be done through cruisers, or through the smaller Darts. Hiveships rarely make planetfall. It's a heavily-coordinated maneuver, and even then it's a risky undertaking. But regardless of the ship, it would take energy to cycle through.”

“That's what Ang—Stillness said,” Siha said.

Meeràn's eyebrows lifted. The woman couldn't keep the surprise from her voice as she said, “The Commander told you his name?”

“I asked after the second time he fed on me.”

The woman measured her as if seeing Siha for the first time. There was something akin to— wonder? Regret? Six years away from other faces had left Siha partially blind. The expression was gone before it could form, and Siha was none the wiser.

“And? What was your experience?” Meeràn asked with careful distance.

“Horrible,” Siha said at once. She grimaced, recalling the dreadful _pulling_. “But the last time he finished, he touched me again. I thought he was going to take more, but instead he . . .” Siha waved a hand, unable to find the words. It didn't matter. The other woman was already speaking.

“It is a great honor to receive even the smallest taste of the Gift,” Meeràn said, the remoteness crumbling away in awe. Her face was open. “Some worshippers go their entire lives without experiencing it.”

“And you?”

The woman looked away, her fingertips absently ghosting over her own chest. Unlike Siha, her skin wasn't revealed for easy access. Siha wondered if the worshipper even received the retrovirus.

“While the Gift is reserved for few, some benefit more than others.” Meeràn studied Siha, then lifted her chin. “I have served the Master of Sciences Biological for three hundred years because of it.”

Siha gaped. “Three hundred—? But how? You look so young!”

The other nodded. “That is the Gift of Life. That which is taken may also be given.” Then she smiled again. “The retrovirus is beneficial to worshippers as well. Now I know my life is no longer at the cost of many. While I realize you may see me as a traitor to my people, know it's always weighed heavily on my mind.”

Slowly, without any sudden movements, Siha circled the table so she and the worshipper were on the same side. She set the cup down and approached until they were a pace apart. Meeràn didn't move, eyes tracking her. She was taller than Siha, her coiled hair well-coiffured, lips full and soft, beautiful in all the ways Siha was not.

“That's what I want,” Siha said. “That give-and-take for both peoples.”

“What you propose is large. Larger than what any one Wraith may give at the moment,” Meeràn said. “But these are changing times. And thanks to the retrovirus and the truce between the Wraith and the Lanteans, I sense that change may come faster than any of us realize.”

“Will you ask and see?”

The other woman inclined her head. “I will. Again, I cannot promise anything. But on your behalf, I will ask.”

Siha nodded. It was the best she could ask for.

“I also—” The woman paused. Started again. “I also learned your consort perished. I honor your grief.”

There was a flush of anger. “He isn't my consort,” Siha said. Her heart clenched. “Wasn't. We were never Bonded.”

“All the same,” Meeràn said, bowing her head again, deeper this time. “I honor your grief.”

“Thank you,” Siha murmured. The pain in her chest wouldn't go away. She looked elsewhere. “He's the one who told me equality will happen when Wraith learn humans can give. Not a moment before.” She didn't know why she was telling the stranger this. Was it some Wraith worshipper disarming trick? _Let them,_ Siha thought, suddenly feeling as if she'd been fed upon again. _I don't care anymore._

“He sounded wise beyond his years.” Meeràn spoke as if handling rare china.

“Yes. He was. Now he's dead.”

“But you're still alive.”

“For now,” Siha said. “But to be fed upon again and again and again, all while being kept in a room for the rest of my life?” She shook her head. “I can't. I would rather kill myself. And I wouldn't be the only one. If there's no system in place to safeguard the treatment of those with the retrovirus—of all humans—we'll wither and die. And without us,” Siha said, spearing the other woman with her best Kay-glare, “the Wraith perish.”

“I'm sure something would be agreed before it comes to that,” the worshipper said, her faint non-smile returning. “Though there's a good chance the Commander would stop you. He would keep you in suspended animation long before you made an attempt.”

Siha didn't reply, promising herself that would never happen.

As if sensing the change in the air, Meeràn sighed. “I will return you to your quarters. But remember, the retrovirus is a child of two worlds—Wraith and Lantean. It will need time to find stable footing.”

 _I hope you're right,_ Siha thought as the worshipper led her back to Stillness' chambers. _For all our sakes._

 

_._

 

.s.

 

.

 

Siha slept. Ate. Slept again. If the Wraith Commander returned to the room, he did so while she slept and was gone by the time she awoke. There was no evidence of his presence. At first Siha was glad. Flavor returned to her food and drink. Sleep was restful. But as time passed she found herself staring at the door, waiting for the tall figure to return and take from her. She rubbed her chest, still feeling the phantom pressure lingering there. Did Meeràn report her concerns? Did she say nothing at all? Apart from their initial meeting she'd not seen the worshipper. Or anyone else. Siha tried to shake off the feeling of abandonment and continued to wait, convincing herself the next time she saw him, she would let him feed freely.

Ate. Paced the main room. Slept again.

The young woman was staring out the small window in her room when she caught the dry slither of opening doors. Siha froze. Had she hallucinated it? Leather rustled. A chair creaked. Siha rushed into the main room and found Stillness standing by the game board. His face seemed thinner to her, the skin stretched tight over the sharp cheekbones. He looked at her, gaze hooded.

“They are finished with your consort's body.”

 

…

 

_TBC_

 


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N:** This is the end. Hope you've found this story as enjoyable to read as I've had writing it. :)

 

.

 

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;  
I lift my lids and all is born again.  
(I think I made you up inside my head.)  
  
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed  
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.  
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”  
—Silvia Plath, “Mad Girls' Love Song,” _The Bell Jar_

 

.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

“They're done?” Siha echoed. All thoughts and fears of another feeding bled away. “I can bury him?”

The Wraith grunted. “If that is your wish.”

“It is. Very much so.”

Stillness began walking towards her. Siha didn't notice, her mind miles away on the burial to come. It was only when he brushed past in a waft of cool air did she realize their proximity. She turned and saw the Wraith enter his private quarters. Siha hesitated. The entrance was still open. When curiosity beat good sense she moved closer and peered inside. It was dim, much dimmer than her own quarters, predominately blue with yellow lights. Aside from its larger space it was identical to hers. The gourd-like nest appeared it hadn't been slept in for weeks. The Wraith moved with purpose, sloughing off vambraces and unbuckling clasps, his back to her. When he began shrugging out of his long leather coat Siha averted her eyes and hurried out of view.

She steeled herself. “May I have seven days?” she asked.

There was a pause. “Three.”

Siha closed her eyes and wet dried lips. “Please. The ritual takes seven—”

“Three. Or do you not want any at all?”

 _We're not equal yet,_ she thought, fighting her anger. _Relax._

“Three days, then,” she said, keeping her tone level.

Siha looked up and found Stillness moving past her again, his new leather crisp and fresh. He ignored her as if she weren't there. Siha wanted to ask if Meeràn had spoken to him, but something about his manner bade her to wait. He was gone a moment later, the main doors slithering shut behind him. Siha closed her eyes again. _Hold on a little longer, Kay._ She imagined feeling wind caress her face and tried not to cry.

A few hours passed before the doors admitted a different Wraith. Siha stiffened. It was the young Wraith from before, the same one who first took her to Stillness. A fresh tattoo dotted his right brow ridge. His lips twitched when he spied her by the game board, but otherwise made no sign of recognition.

“Keep up,” he said.

 _Even his voice is higher than Stillness',_ Siha thought. She hid a humorless, private smile as she did as she was bid. Though there was no drone escort this time, the young woman couldn't shake off the cornered feeling as she hurried to keep up.

The young Wraith led her into a different part of the ship she'd never been. The air became drier and began to taste like metal and engine fuel. She noticed scientist-Wraith were conspicuously absent in these wider corridors. Only long-coated males and drones tramped by. At last the young Wraith led her through a large set of membranous doors. Siha craned her head back and gasped. A latticework of catwalks crisscrossed above her, too many to count. Intermittent red lights gleamed as far as she could see, the rest disappearing in the pale atmospheric murk.

“Where are we?” she asked, forgetting her vow of silence. She couldn't see the top.

“The Dart Bay,” a familiar voice replied.

Siha turned. Stillness stood nearby, hands quiet by his sides. The young Wraith was backing away, head bowed.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“Already in a Dart's pattern buffer,” the Wraith said. His hair gleamed red in the ambient lighting. It reminded her of the long-ago forest fire and shivered before she could stop herself.

“I have informed the Wraith there of your arrival,” he continued. “Ask what you will need and you shall be provided.”

“Thank you,” she said, throat suddenly tight.

The Wraith raised his chin. “Three days.”

A Dart whined overhead and Siha looked up in time to catch the blinding flash of a culling beam.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

Siha opened her eyes.

A wooden ceiling stared back at her. A thin pillow smelling of dried tussock cradled her head. A bed. She was lying on a bed. A cool breeze carrying woodsmoke caressed her cheek and she instinctively turned her head into it. Low gray clouds drifted through the open window. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes as she stared at their achingly familiar sight. Stillness had kept his word: she was down on the planet. After awhile she sat up, wiped her face dry, and climbed to her feet.

A bustling city greeted her as she cautiously peered out the window. She was high enough to see much of it stretching across the valley, smoke chugging from hundreds of stone and wooden huts. Below her window people walked on dirt streets packed hard after years of travel. Many of them had children in tow. Siha felt lopsided watching her own people from afar in a tower. But it was right: she'd seen what happened the last time she meddled too much. The human population was safer without her around. Her paranoia kept her from straying too close to the window, but soon noticed it didn't matter: no one looked at the tower. Only children cast their eyes upwards. Those that did were quickly rebuked and didn't look again.

 _Of course,_ Siha realized. _This is the steward-Wraith's domain._ Kay often spoke of the two Wraith who acted as liaisons between the city and the unseen Hiveships. The thought of meeting one once had her heart skittering. Now she lost herself in the window's view and thought of nothing but the upcoming burial-pyre. Her eyes flicked to the waterwheel Kay once maintained. It was no bigger than a button in the distance, churning at its steady pace.

A stronger gust of wind carrying more woodsmoke and sawdust buffeted her face. Siha leaned into it. If she concentrated, she imagined she could smell rain.

Was this place home? Siha closed her eyes and inhaled as far as her lungs could go. Maybe. Maybe not. It didn't matter.

There was a creak of someone climbing stairs behind her. Siha turned and saw a Wraith enter the room.

“Ah, you're awake,” he said.

The Wraith's voice was smooth and pleasant. His long leather coat matched his elegant hairstyle, ceremonial in all ways Stillness' was practical. _A clevermen,_ Siha thought. He had Stillness' height and a narrow, masculine face. He sported a well-kept goatee and a tattoo curled over his right sensor pit. Yet as he came closer she noticed he kept the bed between them and approached no further. The feeding hand remained tucked behind his back.

“I was told I would be provided what I needed,” Siha said.

Yellow eyes studied her. “That is correct. If you would follow me, please.”

The Wraith led her out the room and down the creaking stairs. Siha kept a hand on the wall and another on the railing the entire time, focusing on the back of the Wraith's head. When she reached the ground level she let her breath go. Siha glanced upwards. Gray light filtered in through several windows, turning what should've been a dark lair into an open space. Motes of dust drifted towards the rafters.

As if sensing her thoughts the Wraith said, “Light sets your kind at ease. Over the years my colleague and I have grown accustomed to it.”

Siha only nodded, hurrying after him. She passed some chairs huddling beneath a table. On it was a bowl of gleaming apples. Hunger stirred but she pushed it down. _Later,_ she thought. _When this is finished._ The young woman was led into a small shed connected to the main tower. A dirt floor greeted her. Muted voices sounded beyond the double wooden doors. More gray light poured through several windows, highlighting the large wooden cart in the centre. Her breath caught.

“I've observed many human funeral rites over the years,” the Wraith said, as if one human to another. He stepped back. “I believe this is what you require, yes?”

“Yes. This is perfect,” Siha heard herself say. And it was. Everything she needed was in the cart: a shovel, rope, a warm cloak, and several bundles of dried branches for burning. There was even some food and drink. Siha took mental inventory as if an outsider looking in. When her eyes passed over the dark shroud, she pretended it wasn't Kay beneath, but someone else. She put the cloak on. It was heavy against her shoulders and smelled of sheep's wool.

“I watched this boy visit you many times,” the Wraith said behind her. “I've rarely seen a human consort so devout.”

 _Consort, consort. That word again,_ Siha thought. But even as a part of her resisted, another part wondered. She resisted looking at the body. The last thing she wanted was to cry in front of a Wraith.

“I was sorry to learn of his death,” the Wraith continued. His hair whispered over the leather as he tipped his head in a shallow bow. “I honor your grief.”

The instant thought of _Wraith don't grieve_ flashed before she could shake it away. No. This is what she needed to change, not only in herself, but in others. _Meer_ _à_ _n used the same words too,_ she thought. Who knew Wraith had such rituals.

“Thank you,” Siha said, if only to break the silence. She maneuvered herself in position and gripped the cold metal of the cart's handles. She gave an experimental pull. The wheels moved without creaking. The Wraith pushed the doors open and the noise of a bustling city spilled inside like light from a window. Siha froze, heart skipping. _So many,_ she thought. People hurried by, giving the shed a wide berth. A few brave souls continued walking as if they hadn't noticed, their chins held high.

As Siha was gathering her courage she paused. She glanced at the Wraith. “My name is Siha. May I ask yours?”

“I'm called the Warden here.”

“No,” Siha said. She shook her head. “Your real name. What your people call you. I would like to know what that is.”

He considered her with an intensity that brought goosebumps to her arms, pupils shrinking to needles.

“Winter.” The previous friendliness was absent.

“Thank you,” Siha said, dipping her head as she'd seen subordinate Wraith do. _That's three I've learned._

Winter smiled with his teeth. She couldn't tell whether it was from friendliness or a darker emotion. “Now I'm sure you're the human who saved the Commander's life,” he said. “Good to finally meet you in person.”

Siha adjusted the cloak's cowl over her face, gripped the metal handles, then stepped into the street.

The cart was silent, heavy company. It shadowed her every step as she navigated the dirt roads, its contents shifting and clanking whenever she rolled over a rut. Once or twice she thought the wind would whip the cowl clean off and expose her face, but the wool was sturdy. A part of her wondered if it even mattered: to most of the city dwellers she was a nameless woman. But habit prevailed and she kept her face hidden. Siha became glad for the decision as eyes lingered on the dark shroud in the cart. There was no mistaking it covered a person, nor the purpose she planned. Siha prayed to the ancestors no one would stop her with questions or condolences. They didn't. They didn't stop her as she approached the city outskirts, nor hollered for her stop when she crossed the boundary. If she wanted to risk getting culled for leaving the city for a burial, who were they to stop her?

The cart wobbled and jostled as Siha maneuvered through the thick grass. The chatter and commotion of the city grew fainter and fainter until it faded all together. Soon only the rustling and swishing of the grass remained. Sweat beaded her brow. Her stomach growled, reminding her of the food in the cart, but she didn't stop, each footstep forcing another. Discomfort didn't matter. Siha lifted her head and let the cool wind scour her face. Without the city's congestion she could properly taste the promise of rain. She covered her eyes with a hand and squinted at the gray sky. _Just hold out a little longer,_ she thought.

Traveling slowed to a crawl when she reached the knolls. Hunger and fatigue forced her to stop often. Her palms became red and tender. Her back ached. She pushed the cowl off and instantly breeze cooled her sweat-damp hair. Siha took a pull of water from the bottle and looked around, orienting herself. All the recent rain had brought small violet flowers to the stark panorama of rock and grass, dotting the landscape in sparse pockets of colour. Her heart swelled.

“Almost there, Kay,” she said. Her stomach cramped with hunger. Sweat stung her eyes.

The sun reached its zenith by the time Siha reached the site of her old shelter. The weeks of absence had not been kind to it. She pushed the heavy curtain aside and grimaced at the faint reek of mildew. Scavengers had gotten into her dried food stores and upturned all the bowls. Ground rodents had begun making their nests in her bedroll. She propped open the curtain to air the shelter. The young woman was halfway through shaking out her bedding when she stopped. What would it matter? They would be taking her back to the Hiveship in three days anyway.

Siha clenched a fist, then relaxed it. She would worry about that later. Her stomach gurgled its loudest yet and sent a stab of pain. Siha hobbled to the cart and forced herself to eat some bread. It felt she was choking down sawdust. The meat though was tough but flavorful. By the time she finished her jaw ached from chewing, but her head felt clearer. She put the rest aside for later and removed the cloak. The wind nipped through her clothes.

 _I should've asked for gloves,_ Siha thought as she gripped the shovel with already aching hands. She didn't have to search for a place for a burial: she had already chosen long ago. _Though it was supposed to be for me,_ she thought, sinking the shovel into the ground. Though the grasses were tough the shovel was sharper. Siha soon fell into a rhythm, and by the time she looked up from her task the sky above the southern mountains was ablaze. The shovel fell from her hands. How long had it been since she'd seen the sunset? Or appreciated it? It was the colour of fire and old gold.

The tired young woman trudged back to the cart, every step growing heavier. A different sort of weariness swept over as she looked over the body. The shroud seemed to pick up the colours of the sunset. Siha reached out to smooth the cloth's wrinkles, not knowing why she cared. What lay beneath was hard as stone. If she focused she could detect an unpleasant odor, like overripe tomatoes. Siha didn't look under the shroud. She wanted to remember her dear friend with colour still in his cheeks, not rotting and gray.

After repositioning the cart nearly on top of the grave she broke the front axel with the shovel. The cart planted forward and the body slid into the ground. The grave wasn't terribly deep, but it wasn't meant to be. After maneuvering him in better position she began overlaying the body with the dried bundles of sticks Winter had provided.

With the last of the sunset fading from the sky the young woman placed firesticks from the cart in and around the bundles. Siha lit one firestick and the chain reaction soon sent the grave was ablaze. Smoke chuffed and curled. She retreated a step as heat fanned her face. The last time she stood over a similar grave-pyre it had been her grandda's. She remember little of it except for the anger boiling in her heart. That anger was gone, the old Siha eroded away. Now she was alone, forever the foolish girl who saved a Wraith from death. She touched fingertips to her mouth, remembering the half-dream from a lifetime ago.

“I love you, Kay,” she said, and at last began to cry.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

Siha dreamt of Stillness' feeding hand pressed against her and woke to the soft patter of rain.

She listened to the monotonous _poc poc poc_ on canvas until the need to relieve herself forced her from her bedroll. She donned the heavy wool cloak and was greeted by a cold, gray world. The wind was dead. A fog had rolled in during the night and had swallowed much of the valley and surrounding hills. The nearest knolls were nothing but faint, towering outlines. Noises were magnified in the eerie, windless tranquility. When Siha heard the scraping of the six-legged deer traveling over rocks, the fog made them sound closer than they were.

Siha closed her eyes and let the rain fall on her upturned face. It was a magnificent feeling.

The young woman took her time returning to the shelter afterwards. She felt hollowed out, as if something had scooped up her insides and only air remained. The calmness in her bones followed her as she fell into cleaning the shelter. What was salvageable was saved. Ropes were tightened. The bedroll was tidied. Soon the clothy reek of mildew was gone. During a lull Siha thought about escaping to the mountains. She lacked any sort of equipment, had no supplies, had no food: it would be a suicide trip. The old Siha stirred, yearning for freedom despite the impossible odds. The new Siha gently pushed the thought away and looked at the mountains no more.

The rain stopped as morning passed into afternoon. Some of the fog rolled away as the wind picked up, but the scraping and rustling sounds continued. Odd. Siha stopped cleaning her hunting knife and straightened. It sounded like someone was approaching. She slid the hunting knife in her belt and waited with a quickening heart.

Three men appeared from the fog. One carried a hatchet. The moment she laid eyes on them the clamoring in her head went quiet. Though their clothing were old and tattered after six years, she would have to be blind not to recognize the weave and fabric her camp used.

This is it. They had come for revenge at last. _Yet only three,_ she thought.

The men of the camp stopped a stone's throw away, two of the faces grim and hard as the rocks beneath their feet. The third had tears in his eyes.

Aching sadness filled her. “Luuka. Not you too.”

“I'm sorry, Siha,” her old friend said. His face was ruddy. Dark circles shadowed his face. “I lost my girls that day, then the Wraith took my beautiful Ehyea. And when I found out about Kay, I—” He shook his bald head. “I'm so sorry.”

Siha nodded. “I understand.” And she did. There was no anger in her, only regret. “But I still can't let you kill me. I have too much to change.”

“You wanting to 'change' things brought us to this,” the lead man said. _Rhoku,_ if she remembered correctly. He'd been friends with Fhuhu. “We've all lost our home, friends, and family because of you.”

“This time will be different,” she said.

“No. It won't,” the second man said. Siha couldn't place him.

She swallowed. “I won't ask for forgiveness—”

“We're not here to give it,” he said.

“—but please don't do this.”

“I'm sorry, Siha,” Rhoku said. He took a step forward. “We've been waiting a long time for the opportunity. Kay's dead. Your protection's gone.”

“This ends today,” the other man said.

“I'm surprised only three of you came,” Siha said. She widened her stance and felt weightless. “Surely there's more of you.”

None of the three men spoke, each exchanging glanced at each other. At last Rhoku gruffly said, “Most are still afraid the Wraith will cull them if they come out here. I say let them come: then at least I would die knowing I tried avenging our people.”

“I can't let you kill me,” she said again, then spun around and began sprinting.

Rhoku lunged after her. He was taller and stronger, but Siha didn't need to run far. She hadn't taken fifty steps when she reached Kay's open grave and skidded in. A hand was yanking her hood back when she took the shovel and swung it around as hard as she could. Bladed edge met bone in a gristly _skrunch_. Rhoku toppled, shouting. Siha dropped the shovel as vibrations numbed her hands.

She barely had time to think when the other man plowed into her. The smell of sawdust and body odor washed over her as his body pressed her down in the grave. Her head rocked back as he punched her. The taste of iron flooded her mouth as her lip burst. Corkscrews exploded behind her lids as another punch slammed her jaw. Ash filled her nose.

Siha stabbed the dagger that had been tucked in her belt deep in the man's groin. He fell back with a grunt. She watched as femoral blood began darkening his pants. Within seconds they were soaked. He was still trying to stem the tide with fumbling fingers when she stabbed him in the neck. The knife rasped against his beard and jarred against the spine. The man was soundless as he clutched at the knife handle, bloodshot eyes never leaving hers. She shoved him away.

Hands suddenly wrapped around her throat and pulled her out of the grave as if she weighed as much as a flower. They flipped her on her back and Siha looked up at Luuka.

“Luuka, don't—”

Black dots danced in her vision as he began to squeeze. She clawed at the vise-like grip. It was like clawing rock.

Luuka wept above her. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—”

Her lungs burned. Sounds grew foggy, as if heard from underwater. In desperation she hooked a thumb in his eye socket and bore down with all her strength. Hot viscous jelly oozed over her wrist as she popped the eyeball. Luuka shook free with a cry and clutched at his face. Siha rolled away, wheezing. She looked up and saw him plastering his hand over his destroyed eye. He stared at her as if she were a ghost.

“Go!” she screamed. Blood ran down her chin. “Get out of here!”

Luuka lurched to his feet. At first she thought he would come at her and braced for another attack. But he turned instead and stumbled away, still cradling at his face. A moment later he stepped off the knoll's ledge and plummeted from view.

Siha stared, stupid with shock. _Luuka_.

She noticed Rhoku too late.

“This is for Fhuhu,” the last man said, and swung the hatchet. A sickening pain exploded inside her as something buckled. She screamed and staggered free, the hatchet still embedded in her ribs. Rhoku lurched at her on his good leg. There was no thought. Siha yanked the hatchet from her side and whipped it across his face, catching him in the mouth. Bloody teeth scattered like hail. Rhoku reached for her again and with a scream of _No!_ Siha buried the hatchet into his temple. The blade connected with a meaty _thuck_. The man slumped like a felled tree and moved no more.

Siha listened to the ragged sound of her own breathing for a long second, blinking away sweat. Her face throbbed. She spat a gob of her own blood and wiped her mouth. Moving her arm caused a deep lance of agony in her side. She looked down. The patch of wool cloak over her left ribs was already soaking red. The young woman peeled it away to reveal a deep cut, the meat around it jagged and inward. It filled the air with its coppery tang. Siha pressed a flat palm on the wound and blood dripped over her fingers in dark rivulets. She stared, thoughts heavy and sluggish.

She glanced at what had been Kay's grave. The nameless man slumped inside as if taking an underground bath, head lolled back.

It didn't matter. The fire had already devoured Kay's body, the ritual complete. _It's just a hole in the ground now,_ she thought _._ She let the bodies where they lay, dragging her feet through red-splattered grass. A droplet hit her face, than another. Soon rain as hard as bullets plummeted the landscape. The ruddy glow of her lanterns greeted her as she re-entered her shelter, the flames guttering in their cases as the wind began to whip in earnest.

 _Best to sleep through rainstorms like that,_ she remembered Kay once saying. It was a bittersweet memory. Siha collapsed on her bedroll as if she were an old woman, every movement slow and tender. Rain _pock_ 'd against the tent's canvas like fingers drumming on a table. When she was at last flat on her back she found no energy left. There was less of her than before, the rest slowly escaping through the gash in her side.

“I'm right behind you, Kay,” she murmured, and closed her eyes.

 

.

 

.s.

 

.

 

The young woman drifted.At one point she thought it was night outside her tent. Her skin burned while her insides felt like ice. The shelter smelled of blood but a gray haze stopped her from caring. Soon her side hurt less. Everything was less. She didn't know how much of her had bled out already, or how much was left. Grayness stole over her like an iron shroud.

Dull pain was pulling Siha from sleep when she saw the Wraith Commander on one knee besides her bed, staring at her. He was motionless, as if he'd been crouching there for hours. A thin orange highlight from a lantern contoured his face while the rest hid in shadow. Siha stared back without blinking, weariness blunting much of her surprise. She didn't remember lighting a lantern.

“Stillness,” she said. She wondered if she had fallen asleep again and this was one of her dreams.

“Siha.” His steady, unaffected tone matched hers.

Despite the familiarity of the dream she twitched when he reached for her, still recoiling from the glistening feeding slit no matter how many times she saw it. Long, slender fingers pushed the top of her shirt aside, the claws ghosting over the pulse point at her throat. Siha's breathing stayed calm. After so many nights of the same horror she learned it didn't matter if she struggled or not: he always caught her in the end. Siha was almost glad when the cool hand pressed against her, eager for the dream to reach its conclusion.

There was a jolt of pain before warmth began filling her like honey dripped from a comb. It kept pouring in until Siha was sure she would burst. Her eyes shot open and she gasped, basking in a glow so warm and complete she felt she was dying. There was no other word for it. Stillness hovered above her, expression unfocused with concentration. The thought _I could run mountains_ soared through her. She could run and keep running until her feet left the ground and she flew like a bird. Even when the Wraith finally pulled away she kept staring upwards, too much in shock to notice.

Her breathing returned to normal. The pain was gone. Siha slowly sat up, afraid she'd imagined the whole thing and she was still broken inside. She looked down and pulled her shirt aside. The skin beneath was whole and unbroken.

“You saved me,” Siha said, dazed.

The Wraith didn't reply, face too hidden in shadow to read.

“I'm but dust to you,” she said, repeating the words he uttered a lifetime ago, unable to believe.

The Wraith continued to study her.

Siha took a breath, then another. Instead of closing her shirt she unlaced it further and kept it open. She stayed that way, chin raised. The Wraith went still in a way she hadn't seen since they hunted together in the forest, gaze never leaving hers. It was a struggle to keep her face composed as he continued to say nothing. The silence between them stretched like taffy and became something else. It was so quiet she could hear the hiss and gutter of the flames in the lanterns. Despite the mounting embarrassment Siha forced herself not to retreat.

She was almost relieved when Stillness finally extended his feeding hand. He reached for her as if she were a glass of unfamiliar vintage, and when they touched, the young woman braced herself for the inevitable agony.

The agony never came. The _pulling_ started at a much slower pace than any of the previous feedings. Siha found an internal rhythm and breathed through the discomfort. Whenever the tug grew too sharp she winced and the pulling would ease. Stillness made no sound. Aside from blown pupils and a tightness around his mouth he was composed, almost calm. She was so close she could smell his cobwebby musk.

At last the Wraith removed himself from her, but not before she felt a burst of strength and a stomach-drop of pleasure. Siha wobbled, then righted herself. She looked down. Her chest was unblemished. She touched the area he'd been pressed against not moments ago, the skin as cool as his had been. She looked up and found Stillness already gone, his footsteps receding. Siha stared at the place he'd been. Despite the gentleness of the feeding the idea of running after him was draining. She leaned back into her bedroll and stared up at the canvas tent. She closed her eyes for a second.

The next time she opened her eyes light was filtering through the canvas weave. Grasses rustled outside as a breeze passed through. Siha rolled into a sitting position. Had it been all a dream? She inspected her side. No. Her mended torso was real. Her strength was real. Every moment had been real.

Siha left the shelter. The sky was a rare blue, the clouds puffy and white. She found hiding spot and relieved herself discreetly, still unsure where the Wraith was. When she was done she noticed a Dart stationed on a flat area of the knoll. _So that's how he did it,_ she thought. Its lines were sleek and deadly. It was larger up front than when she saw them land in the city, its colours a mottled purple. It perched on the grass like an ominous pet waiting for its master, and though she knew it had no consciousness, she still couldn't shake off the impression it was measuring her. She shivered and rubbed her arms through her shirt.

The young woman found the Dart's owner standing by the ledge, the same one Luuka had fallen from. His back was to her, tall and slender in his leather coat, his hair stark white in the bright day. It made her keenly aware of her greasy hair and oily skin. She went to the nearby stream and bit back a yelp as she dipped her head in the freezing waters. She endured the knife-stabbing cold before shaking free, gasping. After rinsing out her mouth and wringing her hair she felt cleaner and fresher than she'd been in days. Slightly more presentable, she made her way towards tall figure. She approached him from his periphery, making sure loud footsteps announced her presence. When she was within conversational distance she stopped. She didn't have to wait long.

“I thought you were only burying one body,” Stillness said, still staring out into the view. His multilayered voice was dry as sand. “Care to explain the other three?”

“They were from my camp,” Siha said. “They came to kill me.”

“Revenge, revenge,” the Wraith Commander said softly. Something told her he wasn't addressing her.

“I don't hate them for it.”

“Why not? They would've killed you. Had the steward not alerted me of your absence, these men would've succeeded.”

Siha chewed on her inner cheek. She didn't look over the edge, not wanting to see Luuka's body. Her heart twinged. “I was like them, once. Revenge was all I could think about. That's why I saved you six years ago,” she said. “I hated my enemy so much I would embrace a Wraith's help to get what I wanted.”

“And now?”

He'd yet to look at her. Siha followed the sharp lines of his shoulders with her eyes, remembering that early morning long ago when she watched him bathing in the river.

“And now I would embrace a Wraith's help to atone, if I can.”

The Wraith looked at her now, his pupils thin as needles against the sunlight. He peered at her as if seeing her for the first time, thoughtfully and deep.

“Before, when I was explaining the Gift of Life to you, I did not mention all of what it was,” he said. “Among Wraith, I said the Gift can be exchanged between close friends. Brothers. It is also shared between lovers as one of our more intimate forms of attention. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

“I think so.”

Stillness looked away with a soft growl. “That is why the retrovirus is both the answer to our problems and the cause of new ones. If humans give as Wraith do—as you have done—Wraith must go from seeing humans as food to . . . equal.” He fell quiet, still watching something she couldn't see. Then his shoulders straightened and turned to her.

“Details will be finalized among my commanders, but humans with the retrovirus will serve aboard for six cycles, then have equal time to recuperate among the worlds. You, however, will not return to this planet. What happened here makes it is clear you a target. When you are not aboard you will be paired with my cleverman's attendant, Meeràn, and be taken to her world. Is this acceptable to you?”

The realization took the wind from her chest.

 _Thank you_ , Siha signaled in woodspeak, unable to say more. At first she thought the Wraith didn't catch the motion—the sun was perhaps too bright, the signal too quick, maybe he didn't remember—but then she saw him incline his head, and in that moment didn't know if she felt like laughing or crying.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

_-fin-_

  
  


 


End file.
